


Coax the Cold

by MediaWhore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Freak Show, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anachronistic use of the name Nessie in reference to the Loch Ness monster, Angst, Anxiety, Bittersweet Ending, Captivity, Colonial Entitlement re: Zayn, Drama & Romance, EDIT: no unhappy ending I promise, Freak Show, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Mermaid Harry, Mermaids au, Professor Louis, Simon and Ben are the worst™, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 86,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediaWhore/pseuds/MediaWhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>England, 1897. </i> </p><p>English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wouldn't be what it is without the help of a few people:
> 
> I'd like to say a huge thank you to [ loopdelouis ](http://loopdelouis.tumblr.com) for posting the gif that originally inspired this story, and for subsequently IMing me to encourage me to write the thing. This fic wouldn't exist without you xx
> 
> Next I'd like to thank [ itreachedthatpoint ](http://itreachedthatpoint.tumblr.com) for brainstorming with me, giving me _so many_ cool ideas and always being super enthused about this fic even when I wasn't so much. 
> 
> Also, big thanks to [ hazzabooween ](http://hazzabooween.tumblr.com) for reading this over for me, giving me great feedback and helping me figure out some tricky scenes. 
> 
> And a big hug to [ painting--words ](http://painting--words.tumblr.com) for not only being my friend, but being a really supportive one.
> 
> Finally, a billion thank yous to [ Shyla ](http://neon--diamonds.tumblr.com) who made the most incredible [ piece of art ](http://neon--diamonds.tumblr.com/post/140799106300/england-1897-english-professor-louis) for this fic. Thank you, thank you, thank you <3
> 
> the title is from Troye Sivan [ BITE ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLuWMOF6vOU)
> 
> This was never meant to be an incredibly accurate depiction of 19th century life in England so please forgive any historical inaccuracies that inevitably found their way into this story.
> 
> Edit: Unfortunately, I'm not allowing translations of that particular fic.

 

_“You can coax the cold right out of me,_

_Drape me in your warmth.”_

_Clevedon, 1897_

It's misty that evening, chillier than Simon anticipated when he first left his caravan for a stroll after the show and he’s shivering his way through cigarettes after cigarettes as he walks through the empty city and makes his way closer to the water. The pier is empty this late into the night, everyone respectable already back into the safety of their homes, and it's the only reason he allows himself to let out a loud frustrated groan. He gives a brusque kick against one of the wooden benches on each side of the pier and groans again at the pain bursting through his foot.

“Fucking hell!” Simon mumbles around his cigarette, limping to the observatory at the end of the pier and leaning on the railing to watch the slightly tumultuous water beneath. The weather is not quite stormy enough to make the waves impressive but it wouldn’t be much of a sight in this darkness anyway. The sound of the water still manages to drown out Simon’s loud exasperated sigh.

They've done even worse than usual tonight, only a handful of children and three elderly couples walking on site, going from tent to tent to explore all that _Mr. Cowell's Spectacular Extravaganza!_ has to offer. It’s not much; a few fake anomalies and mystics wrapped with engaging music and sweets to keep small town people wowed, entertained and more importantly in a spending mood. Between the trinkets and souvenirs they sell on site, there's more than enough to ensure folks are emptying out their pockets willingly every night. In theory at least.

In practice, things are quite different. It seems like Simon's venture has been suffering blows after blows for the past few months, each small towns and villages they visit less receptive than the last. He's not quite sure if the show has lost some of its power or if people are simply moving on, but it's getting worrying. He has mouths to feed, a whole troupe of frauds to take care of, and, more importantly, profit to make. He can't compete with big companies and circuses, with their wild animals and deformed attractions, as his associate Mr. Winston keeps reminding him urgently in between budgeting talks that make them both nervous and grumpy.

He's currently escaping one of those talks, too tired and frustrated to endure another frantic debate on what to do to save their sinking ship. Talks of spending the summer near London are all good, but he’s got a headache and Ben has been talking about the capital for weeks now. Simon just can’t take it any more.

He's mentally ranting against Ben when he first hears it, a small pained whine in the night and it's so low, so fleeting, that for a second he's sure he must have imagined it. When it comes again, louder and more desperate, Simon frowns and starts looking down towards the water where the noise is coming from. It sounds like a wounded animal, or maybe a person, and while he's not in a particularly helpful mood, he can’t help feeling intrigued.

He tries to peer down a bit longer, hoping he'll see what's making those strange laments without having to move but it quickly becomes clear that he’s not going to manage. He can't see between the darkness and the waves. It looks like there's absolutely nothing there and it's strange and eerie, like the sea itself is calling for help, her desperate moaning and pleas enchanting and troubling. It's irrational and foolish, of course. There's more than the ghost of Mother Nature screaming tonight. Simon knows that. He knows and he'll get to the bottom of it, even if it involves more physicality than he usually volunteers for at this time of the night.

He sighs again, throwing his half-smoked cigarette over the balustrade before turning back where he came from and walking up the pier, back onto solid Earth and towards the distressed calling. It takes him a moment to find his way onto the beach, the signs unclear and the landscape unknown but after a few minutes of fumbling and walking around, he finally makes it.

"Hello?" he calls into the night as he first sets foot on the deserted beach.

There's no answer, only the wind howling and maybe he's made it up, maybe there's nothing down here but the sounds his tired brain has imagined.

"Is there anyone here?" Simon tries again, taking a few steps towards where he thinks the moans were coming from. "Anybody needs help down here?"

There are no answers. There's no more whining. There's absolutely nothing beyond the sound of the water and the wind and Simon shakes his head in disbelief. He needs some sleep, a holiday perhaps.

He's about to turn around and walk back to his caravan to finally face his associate when it comes again, louder and clearer than before, a miserable cry in the dark of the night and Simon can't leave without getting to the bottom of this so he keeps walking straight ahead towards the noises with a determined look on his face.

"Hello?!!" he yells again, one hand cupped around the side of his mouth as he tries to project his voice. He's so focused on the path ahead that he almost misses the thing that is about to change his life.

There's a yelp of pain as he steps on something and when he looks down, Simon swears he's never seen anything resembling this before. His first thought is that surely he must have gone mad. His second thought -and the most probable option - is that he's fallen asleep on the pier and has imagined the whole beach vividly, dreams and reality intertwining confusedly.  He falls to his knees next to ... the creature? the monster? Simon doesn't even know what to call it. It looks like a mermaid, a hybrid straight out of folktales, and he almost laughs at the thought because surely it can’t possibly be real. Yet there it is; a man, a boy, with a torso glistening with water, long wet hair and right where his legs should be there's a tail, a long silvery tail that's thrashing against the sand as the... thing whines again.

It’s injured. Simon can see it now, the fishing hook rammed into the creature’s scales and that must be why it was whining. He wonders for a second what happened to the poor fisherman who tried to capture such a majestic beast, but he can’t allow himself the distractions of his imagination. Not in a situation like this.

Simon keeps staring in silence as the creature breathes quickly, panicked, its torso rising and falling with each breath and how is it possible? How is it possible that such a monstrosity could exist? Half-fish, half man, fully unthinkable and improbable.... Simon doesn't know what to think or what to do. He's never encountered anything like it before, has never even believed in anything like it before.

He reaches with a hand, places it firmly against the tail and its cold, wet, slippery like a snake. There’s blood flowing from the wound, tainting the silver-blue scales in small trails that go down until the tail separates into two translucent fins. There’s mud on them, sand and blood sticking to them and Simon can almost imagine that the creature could be beautiful in normal circumstances. But it’s not. It’s not beautiful. It’s impossible. It’s wrong, a scandalous mistake Mother Nature has made and he's so horrified that for a second Simon thinks he's going to throw up. He doesn't. He reins himself in and gets even closer, puts his hand everywhere on the creature. He can feel it tense to the touch, can feel it try to escape, try to slide away on the beach and that will not do. That will not do at all.

"Stop moving," Simon says harshly, putting all of his weight on the creature's stomach, both of his hands placed on each side of its navel.

The creature frowns at the tone and tries to push him away, both arms wrestling against the intrusion, its muscular biceps straining under the effort that fighting back demands with a gaping wound. Simon is faster though, and he's not injured, so he grabs the offending hands, wraps his fingers tightly around the wrists until the boy grimaces and stops thrashing. He's quivering instead, from the fear or the cold, Simon doesn't know or care. The only thing he cares about now, the only thought that's circling his brain is that this is everything he's been hoping for without knowing it, everything he never thought he needed. It’s a gift. A monstrous gift, it’s true, but Simon is not foolish enough to refuse it.

The creature starts hyperventilating and Simon thinks he can see small delicate gills on the side of his chest, can see the way its panic is increasing with each second that passes.

"Is it the water?" Simon asks roughly, digging his nails into the sensitive skin of the creature’s wrists. "Does it scare you without it?" he continues to taunt.

It's not like he expects the animal to answer but he can't deny that it would be practical for him to know a bit more about it before doing anything impulsive.

"It scares you..." he says softly, staring into the widened, frightened, eyes of the sea hybrid. "Interesting," he adds with a small smile before starting to look around on the beach.

"Ah!" he says happily when he finally sees a big rock close enough to grab without moving. "There we go," Simon adds, switching his grip until he's holding both wrists in one hand and has the other free to pick up his stone.

The creature doesn't scream or whine when Simon hits the side of its head. It just falls back, unconscious on the beach. There's a bit of blood now tangled in its hair but nothing that can't be fixed or would do permanent damages. Or at least, Simon doesn’t think so. Or care.

"Much better now," he says softly, passing a hand into the tangles of wet curls on the top of the creature's head. "I think they would enjoy you very much in London," he continues while taking his coat off and wrapping the human half of the hybrid in it. "Yes. I think they would want to pay a lot of money to catch a glimpse of such a monstrous miracle like you."

Once he's sure its head and body are well protected, Simon gets a good grip on its tail and starts walking back home, the thought of this new exhibition for the show heart-warming enough to make him forget the weight of dragging the hybrid for an hour.

He can't wait to show everybody.


	2. Chapter One

_Wytham Woods, 1897_

“This _is_ giving me extra credit, right?” Humphrey asks hesitantly as he struggles to keep the pace and hold the notebook, pen, camera and picnic basket. “Professor?” he insists in a high-pitched voice after Louis remains silent a bit too long.

“You’ll get extra credit when we get pictures of fairies,” Louis finally replies slightly more sternly than originally intended.

He shouldn’t take out his frustration on poor Humphrey. After all, none of this is his fault and Louis knows that. He’s a bright young fellow whose dedication and enthusiasm have helped Louis more than once in his eccentric endeavours. As two strange men at Oxford, it would serve them well to stick together.

He’s just disappointed, that’s all. All the speculating and long calculations, late nights spent perusing old folklore books and wordy correspondences with other self-titled experts in the study of the supernatural and the occult have culminated into three very disheartening afternoons and evenings of observation. He really thought he had made it this time. He thought tonight would be the night of his first real life encounter with a legendary creature and him and his peculiar interest would finally be taken seriously by his academic peers.

“But, that might never happen,” Humphrey mumbles from behind him and Louis stops, turning around with a shocked expression on his face that he’s sure his student can barely see in the rapidly darkening woods.

“Are you doubting, Mr. Clarke? Are you losing faith?”

Humphrey shakes his head quickly. “No Sir, of course not,” he replies automatically, wide-eyed and regretful.

“Well, I certainly hope not. That would be extremely disappointing.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Tomlinson,” Humphrey replies quickly, earnestly, and Louis almost feels sorry for frightening him this way. “It won’t happen again, Sir.”

“Ah, don’t worry Mr. Clarke,” Louis finally says reassuringly, reaching for his student’s shoulder to give it a friendly squeeze. It’s a bit more intimate than is usually the norms between them, but they’ve been severely disappointed tonight. “It happens to the best of us. My dear friend Adeline once stopped her research for a whole year back in the 20s after a very disappointing week of trying to find a vampire nest in Eastern Europe. She’d been researching them for months once she finally took the trip and came back empty-handed... A devastating blow, as you can easily imagine and it did discourage her for a bit, it’s true. But she climbed back on the proverbial horse after a year of moping and trying to find a husband.”

“How old is Adeline?” Humphrey wonders and Louis can almost see the numbers and calculations swirling in his mind. He’s completely missing the point.

“Hardly matters,” Louis replies with an annoyed sigh. “And it’s unbecoming for a gentleman such as yourself to ask a Lady’s age like this.

Humphrey just raises a doubtful eyebrow at him and he’s quite insolent sometimes, but then again so was Louis at his age. So is Louis now, if he’s fully honest with himself, and it’s part of the reason why he’s chosen him as his unofficial assistant.

“We’ve had a tough week, haven’t we?” Louis continues, trying to get him back on the right track.

“Yes Sir,” Humphrey replies solemnly. “I really thought it would finally happen tonight,” he adds a bit more quietly before shaking his head.

“So did I,” Louis replies with a loud sigh. “But, we won’t let it discourage us, will we?”

“No Sir,” Humphrey replies with a confident smile. “Of course not.”

“There you go! There _will_ be other opportunities,” Louis says with a bit too much enthusiasm. “There always are,” he adds, fiercely hoping it to be true.

 

*

 

It takes Louis about five seconds after Humphrey has left his office to fall dramatically into his red velvet chair, drop his face onto his desk and let out a loud groan of frustration against the stack of papers jumbled there. It’s a mixture of his student’s most recent essays on John Milton’s Paradise Lost and his own personal research that he’s let accumulate in a dramatic tangle on his desk during the past week. He’s been a bit too busy getting ready for his three days of observation to care about the state of his office. He already dreads the next day when he’ll have to not only clean up the mess but also offer his students feedback on their writing and close reading.

Who needs sleep anyway?

He sighs twice into the papers before turning his head towards the wall next to the only window in the room. It’s tiny, ridiculously minuscule, but with a view of Louis’ favourite tree and with the bonus of offering his office natural light during the day. It’s already almost miraculous that he even managed to get a window what with him being so young and new to the University. He can’t bear to imagine his esteemed colleagues’ faces if he were to complain about it in any way. Besides, he likes his tiny window. The surrounding wall is messy, various maps of supernatural sightings and drawings of his favourite creatures mixed together on it. It’s not very proper, or clean, but it’s home.

“What am I going to do?” he ends up lamenting with a long sigh after a few minutes of silence, turning his head towards what some of his students call his “wall of crazy” behind his back. “What do you think Nessie?” he asks his favourite drawing of the Loch Ness monster.

He acquired it as an undergraduate student at the University of Saint-Andrews in Scotland when he, quite luckily, met a young man in a pub whose uncle had an extraordinary sighting of the monster back in 1871. Suffice to say the story was enough to inflame a younger Louis’ mind and he had spent his entire holiday that year in Inverness as the boy’s uncle’s assistant, to his poor mother’s despair. They did not see anything resembling a monster in the loch that summer, unfortunately, but Louis had left with a beautifully detailed drawing of what Dr. Mackenzie had seen all those years ago as a parting gift. Louis hasn’t had an office without it since.

"I really thought we had it this time," he adds in a whisper. "It all seemed so perfectly aligned..."

He shakes his head quickly, trying to physically expulse this weary and sad mood. It's like he told Humphrey earlier; they don't get discouraged. They don't give up. Yes, they have setbacks sometimes, most of the times if he's completely honest, but it doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter to him at all. He's a believer, has been since he was little, and yes, sometimes that means weeks and months with nothing but his faith and beliefs to hang on to, weeks and months of mockery by his academic peers, weeks and months of research accumulating to a big fat pile of absolutely nothing... But he won't let himself think it’s hopeless. In his twenty-seven years on this Earth, Louis Tomlinson has always prided himself on his determination and dedication. He refuses to allow a minor disappointment to be the thing that stops him from moving forward or from working on something he's truly passionate about. He's been called foolish more time than he can count, but the true foolishness, in his mind, would be to give up on something that matters to him so much.

"Okay," he says firmly after taking a deep breath, straightening up in his chair and passing a quick hand through his hair. "Back to work."

He bends down slightly, opens the bottom drawer of his desk and takes out an old journal. He's had it for years and has been using it for his research for almost as long. He opens it reverently, going through all of his hopes and setbacks quickly before getting to the next blank page. He had previously detailed all the research he’s done involving fairies at this time of year, in this particular region of England, and now he only has to enter the incredibly disappointing results of their experiment. Louis reaches for Humphrey's notes for the night, shakes his head at the shaky and messy handwriting, before starting to diligently copy every word, adding his own observations and interpretation when necessary.

The pile of essays can wait. This is the work of a lifetime.

 

*

 

The next morning, Louis wakes up suddenly at the sound of laughter coming from outside his office's window. He bats the piece of paper stuck to his cheek away and frowns when he realises it's the half corrected essay he fell asleep on in the early hours of the morning. He scans the paper quickly, noticing it seems to have a well enough structured argument and scribbles a B on the top of the page. It should do for now.

Louis reaches inside his wrinkled suit's pocket to grab his watch and his eyes widen when he sees the time.

"Damn!" he swears loudly as he jumps out of his chair in a panic, both hands trying to comb through his messy hair as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He's already missed the first ten minutes of his lecture and he can’t afford any more mishaps. The head of their college, Mr. Higgins, has been more than clear on that subject the last time he scolded Louis for spending forty-five minutes of a ninety minutes class talking about vampires in order to introduce a brand new piece of fiction, a recently published novel called Dracula that Louis had devoured the previous night. According to Mr. Higgins, deviating from the curriculum is highly frowned up without seeking permission first. Who knew?

Still, Louis doesn’t actually want to get fired even if he pushes the boundaries pretty often so he grabs the stack of essays and runs through his office door into the corridor and doesn’t stop until he’s reached his classroom five minutes later, out of breath and even more dishevelled than before. He’s there though, he’s finally made it and truly that’s what matters.

“Good morning my bright young minds,” Louis declares grandly as he enters the room, thirty young men stopping their discussions at the sight. He walks to his desk and loudly drops his stack of papers before sitting on it right next to them and crossing legs, ready to start the lecture.

He’s been rambling about Milton for fifteen minutes now when he notices Humphrey making eyes at him in the background. He frowns a little, stutters slightly in his monologue before shaking his head at his assistant and continuing his speech. He can still see Humphrey in the corner of his eyes; pointing at his cheek and almost automatically his hand rubs at his absently, mirroring the young man’s gesture. It’s only when he takes the fingers off his face that he notices the ink stain and he finally understands Humphrey and his dramatic eyebrows. He blushes at the realisation he’s been talking with ink on his face and starts rubbing his blackened hand against his suit’s trouser half-heartedly, trying to continue his lecture as if nothing has happened. This certainly explains why some of the students are snickering. Then again, there’s usually one or two snickering students in each of his lectures so he normally just pretends they’re not there.

The rest of the lecture goes by without incident and they manage to go through the material smoothly. Soon enough they’ve run out of time and Louis starts handing back his students’ work quickly before dismissing them.

“Hum, mine’s an article in Old English about fairy rings?” Oliver Abbott says with a grimace once all the essays have been distributed, holding the paper’s corner between his thumb and index, arms extended to ensure it’s as far away from his body as possible.

“Oh! Sorry!” Louis babbles, quickly flipping through what’s left on his desk to find Mr. Abbott’s essay. “There you go, Mr. Abbott. My apologies,” he adds with a shrug.  

Unsurprisingly, Oliver doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even offer a sympathetic smile back, but then again he’s quite a serious - and boring if you ask Louis - young man. He just snatches his essay out of Louis’ hands and drops the article forcefully on his desk.  He gives Mr. Higgins a discouraged look on his way out. Louis has no idea how long his superior has been standing in the door observing, but if the frown on his face is to be trusted, it was long enough for him to disapprove.

“Meet me in my office, Mr. Tomlinson,” he says in a tired and exasperated voice. “Now, if you please,” Mr. Higgins adds, opening the door for Louis.

Louis sighs, grabbing the papers left on his desk and starts walking towards the exit. He already fears this is not going to be pleasant.

 

*

 

“What are we going to do with you?” is the first thing Mr. Higgins says as soon as they’ve both taken seats in his office.

“Well-” Louis starts saying, stopping when he receives a silencing glare.

“I just don’t know. We’ve talked about this Mr. Tomlinson. Multiple times.”

Louis sighs in reply, biting his lower lip and keeping his head down. They have. Of course, they have. They talked about it at the beginning of the term and in the middle too. They’ve talked about it the previous year and the one before that.

"You're a smart man and a great teacher. We'd hate to lose a brilliant mind such as yourself."

"You don't have to lose me," Louis interrupts cheekily. He doesn’t think he’s getting fired. At least not today. Not yet.  

“You think this is a laughing matter?” Mr. Higgins snaps. “We will have to lose you if you don't correct the situation Louis," Mr. Higgins continues sternly, his glasses low on the tip of his nose and his frown taking up almost half of his face. "Look at you," he adds; gesturing towards Louis and, to be fair, today is not his greatest.

For starters, there are the dramatic circles under his eyes from three nights spent in the forest and staying up in his office to elaborate on his notes. He doesn't have a mirror on hand but he assumes his hair is still out of place despite his best efforts to tame it. The scruff covering his cheeks and chin certainly doesn't help either. Then, of course, there's the fact he's been wearing this particular suit for almost three days now. It hasn't started smelling too bad yet, Louis did check while he was running to class, but it does look extremely wrinkled. Compared to Mr. Higgins' perfectly trimmed moustache and his impeccable clothing, Louis can't say he looks like he belongs. He knows that. But his mind is what matters. And his mind belongs, he knows that too.

"You look like you've slept on the streets. There's ink on your face!"

 _Ah, of course_ , Louis thinks. He actually forgot about that one for a second there.

"But my lecture was impeccable," Louis argues with his most arrogant grin.

"Don't you dare son," Mr. Higgins says angrily. "Don't give me this attitude. This is one of the most reputable universities in the world; there are more than your lectures that need to be impeccable. Do you think I don't know what you spend your nights doing with Mr. Clarke? I've let it slide for now but I can't anymore. Not when it affects your work and the reputation of this institution."

Louis gulps and tries to stop himself fidgeting.

"You need to sort your priorities, young man. This is your final warning. We don't teach fantasists’ dreams and illusions here, you'd do well to remember it."

 

*

 

“Pffff,” Louis protests as soon as he’s back into the safety of his office. “What does he even know? _I_ don’t have my priorities sorted?” he grumbles as he starts untangling his white necktie. “Me?? My priorities are perfectly sorted thank you very much. Old bastard just doesn’t agree with them!”

He hears the sound of someone clearing their throat in the doorway and for a second Louis’ heart stops beating. He turns around slowly, letting out a sigh of relief when he notices Humphrey’s sheepish face coming from the barely opened door.

“Let’s forget this happened,” Louis laughs awkwardly, inviting his student to come in with a gesture. “Come in, come in,” he adds nervously.

“Forget what?” Humphrey shrugs.

Louis chuckles in response, pointing a finger at Humphrey’s chest. “You’re getting closer to those extra credits with each day that passes Mr. Clarke,” he says jokingly.

Humphrey smiles a little too enthusiastically as soon as Louis says it.

“Not really,” Louis clarifies worriedly. “Don’t… don’t tell Mr. Higgins I make jokes about that,” he adds after a couple of seconds. “Actually… Don’t talk to Mr. Higgins about me at all. Never. Just… Don’t. Might want to walk the other way when you see him on campus, now that I think about it.”

Humphrey grimaces.

“Just to be on the safer side,” Louis explains, voice lowering to a whisper on the last two words.

Mr. Higgins didn’t say anything about questioning any of Louis’ students on his competence, but he wouldn’t put it past him to ask around anyway. Really it’s simply common sense to take a few necessary precautions.

“I take it your meeting didn’t go particularly well?” Humphrey asks casually, looking out the window like it wasn’t wildly inappropriate of him to mention it. “If it’s not indiscreet of me to ask,” he adds, looking at Louis from the corner of his eyes.

“It went perfectly fine,” Louis lies, voice rising to a squeak on the last word. He starts randomly shuffling the papers on his desk.

It was an absolute disaster and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to losing his job ever since he started teaching. And he came close, at least a few times each year. Not that he’s going to mention this to his _student,_ of course.

“I might get fired,” Louis blurts out before he can regret it.

“What?” Humphrey gasps, turning away from the window. “But…,” he fumbles, shaking his head in protest. “The semester is almost over?”

Louis chuckles. “Well,” he sighs. “I assume it would be effective next year.”

“They can’t do that.”

“Yes, they can,” Louis says. “Unfortunately.”

“Of course, they can,” Humphrey grunts with an annoyed expression on his face. “But they _can’t_ ,” he repeats, with a hint of desperation that Louis thinks he can recognise.

There’s nothing quite like finding a kindred spirit. Louis still remembers the first time he met Adeline and how much it meant to have somebody to talk to, somebody who shared his passion, who listened to him and said _yes, I think that too_. He remembers all the friends and acquaintances he’s met along the way and how much his correspondence with them still matters so much to this day. Yes, he knows that desperation quite well.

“Don’t worry,” he replies with more confidence than he thinks he has. “I’ll fix it,” he insists.

“How?” Humphrey frowns, looking like it’s a complete lost cause and Louis would be offended except it just means that his student cares and how can he be offended about that?

“I’ll get him back on my side,” Louis promises with a nod. “I always do.”

 

*

 

He’s already on his second cup of tea that morning, a week later, when Humphrey bursts into his office without knocking.

“Humphrey, what on-”

“Have you seen it?” Humphrey asks between shaky breaths, bent in half, both of his hands on his knees. He’s gripping a crinkled piece of paper tightly.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks, concerned for the well-being of his student. Humphrey, despite some slight rebellious strikes once in a while, is usually much more composed.

“Have you seen it?” Humphrey simply repeats a bit more eloquently, his breath starting to get back to normal.

"Humphrey, I'm sure I don't know what on Earth you're talking about so let's cut to the chase and just tell me what it is that I'm supposed to have seen?"

Humphrey straightens himself and nods taking the two steps required for him to get to Louis' desk. He gulps and drops the paper he was tightly holding onto ceremoniously in front of Louis.

It's a poster; an advertisement of some sorts and no Louis has indeed never seen it before. It's for a show, a freak-show to be exact, some new sensation in London if the poster's enthusiastic claims are to be trusted. There's a beautiful dark drawing of a monster on it, a hybrid with a huge fish tail and sharp teeth, his face forever sketched into an aggressive grimace. _Come see the monstrous wonder from the sea!_ the poster entices and Louis chuckles a little bit at the sight.

"That's it?" he asks his student with an unimpressed tone.

Humphrey looks slightly offended by his reaction. "That's it?" he repeats mockingly. "It's a mermaid! Or merman, I don't know. Surely that's enough! It could be the proof we've been waiting for so long. They have a real specimen, another species, an impossible species, and just a few miles away. Mr. Tomlinson this is the break we've been waiting for! Imagine how much we could learn from observing such a creature! No more nights of watching empty patches of forest waiting for something to show up, no more - "

"Aw," Louis says fondly, with a hint of condescendence and he feels slightly guilty when he notices the way Humphrey's face falls at the sound. "My naive little protégé,” he adds with a soft smile.  

Humphrey's jaw tightens at the words. "You don't think it’s real."

"Don’t you know what those places are about?" Louis asks seriously because he does. He’s been to some many times before when he was younger and inexperienced, easily enthused by the mere whispers of something remarkable or impossible. He's grown now, has learned from past mistakes and has realised after too many hoaxes and disappointments that those rarely tell a truthful story. Or at least not the true story he's always looking and hoping for.

Humphrey shrugs. “They’re about entertainment and the bizarre, just like us. Well, almost.”

"Nice interpretation, but not quite. They aim to impress and make money with any means or artifices necessary. The chances of this being even remotely true are so slim it's not even worth giving it a second thought. I'm sorry, Mr. Clarke. They’re charlatans. They prey on the naive and uneducated. They probably stuck some fish carcasses to some poor bugger’s legs to make a few pounds. I wouldn’t expect anything more than some appalling makeshift. It’s the feejee mermaid all over again!"

Oh, and what a personal disappointment that had been. Louis had been hearing stories of this creature for most of his life when he had met an older gentleman four or five years before who was involved in the initial deal when the mermaid was sold to the United States. It had only taken a couple of drinks for the man to babble about a last minute emergency when the creature’s upper body had to be stitched back together in a frenzy after the first original seam had given out mere minutes before it was to be sold. A fake. Again.

“The feejee mermaid was obviously a monkey and a fish sewn together, this is completely different!” Humphrey argues, pointing at the poster. He’s quite quick to claim it as obvious for someone who one hundred percent believed in it before Louis, for the sake of his integrity, had to reveal the truth to him.

“This is a drawing, we have no idea what the real creature looks like, or if there’s even one.”

"Exactly! We don’t know, but there _is_ a chance it could be real, though!" Humphrey argues passionately and sometimes Louis misses this. He's jaded, an old-timer now, and he can't relate to this impulse of blind hope. There’s nothing on this poster that screams real to him and he’s seen slights variations of it too often before to feel like there’s a reason to still be optimistic.

"A minuscule, improbable chance I guess," Louis still admits because he believes in fairies and vampires; it'd be unbecoming of him to claim anything as an absolute truth when the world he's trying to prove is still inaccessible to so many.

"Then isn't it worth checking it out regardless of the unlikeliness of the probability? Wouldn't you regret it for the rest of your life if this creature is real and you're not the one to study it first? And think of Mr. Higgins! Surely he couldn’t think about firing you with the proof you’re not just an eccentric!"

There’s something to be said in defence of naive enthusiasm, Louis has to admit because in this moment, even though he knows, rationally, that going to this freak-show is setting himself up for another disappointment, he can’t help but feel like maybe Humphrey is on to something. It can’t hurt to take a small peek after all. If the worst comes to pass, Louis will have another funny anecdote of failure to amuse his sisters at dinner back home and irritate his mother with. And if it’s true, he might have found the way to keep his job after all.

“You know what,” Louis says determinately, rising from his seat. “You’re absolutely right,” he declares. “It is worth a shot if only to prove I’m right to the idiots who work here.”

“Yes!” Humphrey exclaims loudly. “When can we go?” he adds before widening his eyes when he realises the assumption he’s just made. “I mean… If you want me to come, Sir. I completely understand if you’d prefer not having company.”

Louis shakes his head fondly and reaches for Humphrey’s shoulder to give him a comforting squeeze. “Don’t be ridiculous Humphrey. Of course, you’re coming with! This was your idea after all.”


	3. Chapter Two

It looks like most freak-shows Louis has visited before.

The entrance is grandiose, a high wooden fence surrounding the whole area, caging in the show, with two big opened doors welcoming Londoners in, one big gas lantern hanging from each of them. There’s a bigger crowd than Louis had originally expected, people almost pushing each other through the gate, children squealing and pointing enthusiastically at the chipped sign that hangs above their heads as they wait their turn to get through. _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ it reads in sparkly letters that have clearly seen better days, red with a golden contour, striking still in the quickly darkening night.

Humphrey is literally bouncing on his feet in the queue, rising to his tiptoes to try to see over gentlemen’s top hats and Louis looks at him with an amused smirk for almost three full minutes before Humphrey notices the attention. He blushes in response and drops back to the sole of his feet.

“Sorry,” he mumbles with a shrug and Louis laughs in response.

“Have you never been to one of these?” he asks, a bit confused. For someone so passionate about defending the place, he’s clearly acting like he’s never even set foot in one.  

Humphrey’s eyes widen and he shakes his head non-stop for ten seconds before Louis has to stop him.

“Why not?”

“Mama would never allow it,” Humphrey replies like it’s obvious. “They’re trivial,” he says, voice going high and firm on the last word in a clear imitation of his mother. “And vulgar,” he adds in a whisper, looking left and right to make sure no one else has heard the comment.

“Of course,” Louis nods. His own mother, while existing in the same circles as Humphrey’s and being quite strict herself, had never developed a disdain for lower amusements. Louis quite prides himself on the surprisingly wide variety of his and his sisters’ education.

“We went to the theatre when we were younger,” Humphrey continues to explain. “And the opera. Once, we went to the circus. They came to the village on the Estate. Everybody was there; the servants even had the evening off especially. But it was noisy, a lot of people screaming… She found it completely appalling and it never happened again.”

“She must love your extracurricular activities,” Louis says jokingly.

“Oh, she would absolutely despise you and our mission of course. Which is why I never considered it important to mention it to her.”

“Good boy.”

There’s a rumble from the crowd and suddenly the queue starts moving a bit more rapidly and they finally reach the gate. Louis pays for both of their tickets and, at last, they slip inside.

The site is colourful and mysterious, with a joyous atmosphere spreading from every corner. The bright red and white striped tents are scattered with seemingly no pattern, a little village of extraordinary and bizarre for people to explore freely. Some of them are open, revealing artists in the middle of an act, the others are closed with ambiguous signs outside the entrance flaps, a sentence or two to intrigue unsuspicious families and invite them in. Once every two or three tents, there are stands selling beers, peanuts and candies, or even some small trinkets from the show, programs, and souvenir coins. To Louis’ surprise, they even sell some jewellery and flowers, anything to make this the perfect evening out on the town.

“Oh great!” Humphrey gasps when he sees three musicians making their way between the tents, playing lively music and dancing through the crowd. "Can we get some candies?" he asks. "They can be celebratory candies if the creature is real and a consolation prize if it's not,” he justifies quickly, clearly hoping this will make Louis more likely to agree.

He snorts at the childish behaviour before agreeing. "Yeah, I guess so," Louis laughs as they pass next to an open tent with a big burly man in it. He's lifting weights a bit too easily, stopping every once in a while to take a pose, making his biceps bulge almost obscenely.

"Oh," a young redheaded lady next to Louis gasps as she starts fanning herself a bit more quickly, eyes fixed on the big man's thighs, right where his tight costume ends and the hairy skin begins.  

Louis raises his eyebrows at the sound, amused by her obvious reaction. The man accompanying her is getting irritated, one finger twirling his moustache nervously as he starts clearing his throat loudly to catch her attention again.

"Good luck with that mate," Louis mumbles as he finally reaches the food stand where Humphrey has already ordered candies for twice the number of people that they are.

"Here," Humphrey smiles goofily and Louis is quite astonished to see him act so juvenile in this setting. He's not used to him being like this. He's usually much more composed on the school's ground, focused either on his studies or on their common passion and research.

 _Good for him_ , Louis thinks. _Adulthood catches up with us so fast._

"So, are we waiting for someone else?" Louis asks, eyeing the food.

"Of course not," Humphrey frowns. "Who else would join us? Mr. Higgins? Oliver?" he adds, saying the name of his classmate with a hint of disdain. Louis knew they weren’t close but this clear dislike is surprising even to him.

He snorts. "Fair enough. I just meant this is a lot of food."

"This might be the night that changes your career. It deserves a feast! And... well, this is _Mr. Cowell's Spectacular Extravaganza!'_ sequivalent of a feast."

"Don't get your hopes up," Louis warns. He doesn't want them to be disappointed again, especially not so soon after what they now refer to as the Failed Fairies Field Trip. And with Humphrey going to the country with his family for the summer... The last thing Louis wants is for him to come back with his spark gone. He’s seen it happen to too many of his friends and colleagues.

"My hopes are not up,” Humphrey replies automatically, with the most earnest look in his eyes. “They're low. The lowest. They're so low they're buried. I had a funeral for them before meeting you tonight."

“Witty, Mr. Clarke,” Louis deadpans for a second before letting a small smile appear in the corner of his mouth. “Let’s find this mermaid of yours then,” he says with a nervous sigh, hoping his apprehension doesn’t show too much.

“Oh, you’re here for the sea monster, aren’t ya?” a thick Irish accent calls out from behind Louis.

He turns around, surprised to find a smiling blond man dressed in a bright red suit eyeing them both with an amused smile on his face. It’s like being attacked by the colour itself and Louis’ eyes widen skeptically.

“It’s a showstopper, can’t disagree with you there,” the man nods seriously, slowly playing with a deck of cards. “The best attraction we’ve got. Queue goes up to Lou’s tent and circles back ‘round it,” he continues like it’s supposed to sound impressive or mean something to Louis who’s never been here before.

“Okay,” Louis replies, a bit confused.

The man smiles, holding the cards in a fan-shaped position towards Humphrey, “Pick one lad! Don’t show it to me.”

“We don’t have time for this, sorry. I’m sure your tricks are wonderful, but we should really join the queue,” Louis interrupts, stopping Humphrey’s hand when he starts reaching for the cards.

“Bah,” the Irishman laughs loudly. “What’s the point? You’re going to waste all night there? Come on, just one trick.”

“And how much is that trick going to cost me?”

The man, and he’s probably a boy really, younger than Louis at least, smirks happily. “I like ya’, so I’ll do this one for free,” he says, offering the cards to Humphrey again.

Humphrey shrugs and picks a card, the queen of heart.

“You won’t forget it?” the man teases and Louis rolls his eyes. “Gee, he’s a spoilsport,” he comments, pointing a finger towards Louis. “Alright, put it back in the deck, I won’t look. Anywhere you want.”

He makes a show of closing his eyes dramatically and starts whistling a song while Humphrey chooses where to put the card. Once he's done, the man starts shuffling the cards, mixing them with a quick and expert hand. Louis has no doubt that he'll be able to find the card back easily, knows it's a simple trick and that there's nothing magical involved. Still, he can't help feeling impressed by the skills displayed. He knows with quite a lot of certainty that he would never be able to achieve something similar.

He had tried briefly as a child after witnessing a particularly memorable performance from a famous illusionist whose complicated name Louis could never recall. He's not sure if it was the skill or the discipline he lacked but barely a week after declaring one night at dinner that he would be a magician, he had already given up.

As suspected, the man has no problem recovering the card, twirling it in his hand proudly to show both Louis and Humphrey.

"The queen of hearts? Am I right?"

Humphrey nods and claps. "Yes, it was the queen of hearts."

The man bows cheekily, arms stretched out. "Thank you, thank you," he says to an imaginary audience. "Oh no my lady flowers are too much," he tells a woman walking past them. She gives him half a giggle and half a frown back, confused by the situation, yet charmed.

"Okay, well thank you," Louis says quickly. "We'll go join the queue now."

"So fast?"

"Yes, so fast I'm afraid," Louis says with an exaggerated pout.

"You know, my friend reads tea leaves a few tents over. I think you'd love it. His name is Zayn and he's really good. An Arabian miracle, as they say. He can read your future from the palm of your hand for three shillings. And he's scarily accurate. Told yours truly he was gonna find the love of his life."

"Did you?" Humphrey asks, and it really makes Louis want to pinch his cheeks when he’s being adorable and charmingly naive like that.

"Not yet, but I'm ready 'cause I know it's coming, right?!" the entertainer teases with a wink.

"Yeah, no thanks. We don't have time to be told lies for three shillings, especially not if the queue is as long as you claim."

"Listen, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but truth is, most families are gone by eleven o'clock. If you hang around until then you'll have the tent mostly to yourself and you can see Swimmy in all of his glory uninterrupted."

"Swimmy?" Louis asks with a laugh.

The man shrugs. "Listen, mate, it's free advice, you do whatever you want. I don't care. But I'd go see Zayn in between if I were you. He might even tell you something interesting."

"You mean he might make up something interesting," Louis argues just to be stubborn. Truth be told, it is good advice. Louis wants the time to really observe this sea creature and the thought of doing it without as big of an audience is more than tempting. Most hoaxes seem real at first glance so Louis wants -no he needs - to take his time and truly have a good long look. It won't be possible if there's a huge crowd waiting to catch a glimpse still.

"You believe what you want mate, but I'll tell you something real; he's not boring and you have about two hours left to kill. You two don't look like people who have to watch how much they spend anyway..."

"It could be funny," Humphrey agrees with a half shrug.

On one hand, Louis really doesn't care for fortune tellers, but on the other, it does sound vaguely amusing and they do have two hours left to wait. There are other acts on the show if all the tents are to be trusted, but, well... They do have to start somewhere.

Louis sighs loudly, knowing they've won and that he really is going to let himself be led to have his palms read or was it his tea leaves? He’s going to have something read anyway.

"Fine," he says with an eye roll. "Could you show us to this mysterious tent that apparently holds the answers to all my questions about the future?" he adds sarcastically.

"For sure! You won't regret it. Especially not when you get to see Swimmy in peace. He's much more impressive then."

"Is that his name then?" Louis asks hesitantly as he starts following him through the crowd and the labyrinth of tents. "Swimmy?"

The Irishman bursts into laughter. "Of course not, s’not like he could have told us. That's just what I've nicknamed 'im. You know, because of the big tail. He swims. So he’s Swimmy."

"Oh, that's... charming, I guess. A monster with an adorable nickname, that's new."

"You gotta name your pet, otherwise, it's just wrong."

Louis frowns, unsure why the sentence is bothering him exactly, but unable to shake his feeling of annoyance. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Here we are," the Irishman says once they've reached a smaller tent, the smallest they’ve seen so far.

It stands out, a dark purple rather than the sea of red and white that characterizes all the others and Louis wonders why that is for a second. What is it that makes this Zayn so special that he gets his own little world, that doesn't align with everybody else?

Louis hums and scratches at the scruff on his cheek lost in thought for a second. It's one of the closed tents, kept shrouded in mystery for as long as possible, and there’s a sign next to the flap that reads _Collect Your Future!_ in a swirly handwriting.

"Sir?" Humphrey asks, dragging him out of his lost thoughts. “Are we going in?”

"What?" Louis asks, turning his head towards his student.

"Are we going in?" Humphrey repeats with a small, confused smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes. Why not? We're here, aren't we?" Louis chuckles. He's not sure why he's suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but he is. He's never been scared of charlatans before but somehow the darkness of the tent and the Irishman's insistence are making him feel a bit queasy.

"Well, this is where I must leave you I'm afraid," the young man says with an exaggerated sad expression on his face. "I know, I know, a bitter end to what could have been a blossoming lifelong friendship, but I must get back to work. I've been Niall and it was lovely to meet you both. Don't forget to have fun now! Especially you, frowny face."

And with those words, Niall gives them a little wave and starts skipping in between the tents, already looking for his next prey Louis assumes.

"That must be a really fun job," Humphrey speculates out loud and Louis can't imagine in what world this would be remotely amusing.

"Maybe," he simply replies to humour him. "After you," he adds, pointing towards the tent, still feeling nervous and twitchy.  

Walking into the tent truly is like walking into another world. It's completely dark with the exception of one candle burning in the centre of the tiny table. There are colourful fabrics and talismans hanging everywhere making the tent feel even smaller than it is. There are trinkets on the table too, what looks like tarot cards and medallions, even a tea set, with two plush and comfortable-looking red chairs facing each other on each side of it.

The man Louis assumes must be Zayn is snoring in one of them, his perfectly symmetrical traits relaxed and unsuspecting. Louis and Humphrey share a confused look for a second before bursting into quiet giggles.

"This is awkward," Humphrey whispers.

Louis snorts. "If you give me three shillings I'll read your cards, yeah?" he teases, reaching for them on the table.

They're gorgeous, intricate, with beautiful drawings and the name of each card delicately written at the bottom.

"These are beautiful," Louis whispers reverently, picking one randomly out of the bunch.

It’s the lovers’ card; the sun and moon inked forever as one, embracing, on it.

“Thank you,” a smooth voice replies and Louis jumps at the sound, dropping the cards back on the table.

The man, Zayn, is awake now, stretching like a cat in his chair, before getting up and walking closer to them, his striking brown eyes piercing into Louis’.

“I made them myself you know,” he continues with a small smile and he looks happy to see Louis so awkwardly uncomfortable. “Drew them all, one by one,” he adds, reaching behind him to grab a card from the pack.

It’s the lovers again.

“Interesting pick,” Zayn says. “Would you like me to interpret it for you?”

“Oh, no, no,” Louis babbles with an awkward giggle, grimacing towards Humphrey. “I didn’t pick this card. Not at all. It was just the first one that I... saw.”

Zayn nods. “It called to you,” he says knowingly, reaching for Louis’ forearm, inviting him to take a seat.

“Oh, um. We’re here for Humphrey actually,” Louis says, refusing to sit down. He smiles a bit too wide and shrugs. “He’s my student, posh and first time at a show like this, you know the type.”

Zayn doesn’t seem phased at all by Louis’ chatter. “Interesting,” he whispers, pushing on Louis’ shoulder firmly until he drops into the chair with an annoyed sigh.

He walks back to his own chair and sits down gracefully, reaching into his jacket’s pocket and taking out a pack of cigarettes. “You don’t mind?” Zayn asks, already lighting one using the flame of the candle.

“Not if you give me one,” Louis replies, hand already open in front of Zayn’s face. If he’s forced to endure the reading of a card that he didn’t even pick, at least, he wants a smoke to go with it.

Zayn shrugs, presenting the pack in a friendly manner before putting it into his jacket swiftly and waiting for Louis to light up.

“So, the lovers,” Zayn smirks before licking at his lower lip. He places the card in the middle of the table so that Louis and Humphrey can both see it more clearly in the flickering candlelight.

“Apparently,” Louis replies, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“There’s more than one meaning to this card, you know,” Zayn continues, both dark eyes fixed on it.

“O-kay,” Louis says disbelievingly, the embracing sun and moon seemingly staring expectantly at him.

"There's the obvious one, of course: a relationship, a partnership. Now it's not always a romantic one, but it is the lovers' card so it's the most literal interpretation."

Louis smiles, lips tightly pressed together. "I'm not in a romantic relationship," he replies with a shrug.

"Yet," Zayn says confidently and it's a bit irritating, the way he seems to think he knows everything. Comes with the job, Louis assumes and Zayn is certainly a good act. He's got that whole mysterious, knows more than you vibe down to perfection.

Louis chuckles in response. "Yet," he repeats with a nod because it's not like he can deny it.

"But the lovers are about much more than a romantic relationship. It's about an eminent choice."

"A choice?" Louis asks, giving Humphrey a confused glance.

"Yes," Zayn continues absently, one finger slowly stroking the circle the sun and moon make on the card. His bony fingers are decorated with silver rings and big black gems. "A life changing one," he adds, never stopping the movement.

Louis gulps. "What does that mean?"

Zayn laughs. "Only you can figure that out."

"How informative," Louis replies sarcastically. This is why he dislikes these obviously fake displays. They leave people with more questions than answers, and Louis’ life is already filled with unanswered questions.

"Funny," Zayn comments. "I would have taken someone like you for a believer and yet you treat this with contempt."

"What does that mean, someone like me?"

"Never mind," Zayn shrugs, his eyelids fluttering prettily. "There's a last meaning to the card you picked."

"I didn't pick it," Louis insists again because he didn't.

"Right," Zayn smiles. "It picked you."

Louis snorts and rolls his eyes. "If you say so.”

“I do.”

“So, what is it then?” Louis asks, making a funny face. He widens his eyes and opens his mouth in fake excitement. “What's the last important meaning of the card?"

He hears Humphrey trying to transform his giggle into a subtle cough without much success but Zayn is completely unfazed.

"Sacrifices," he reveals solemnly, fingers still stroking the card and he looks like he’s hypnotised by it.

“What?”

“Yes, a sacrifice you must make for someone else.”

 

*

 

“That was something,” Humphrey says as soon as they’re out of the stifling tent.

Louis snorts. “That’s one way of putting it,” he replies, twirling the lovers’ card that Zayn firmly insisted should be his to keep. He’s not sure exactly how that’s advantageous for him to be giving away part of his accessories but there were such determination and fire - acted or not- in Zayn’s eyes that Louis decided best to simply silently agree with him.

“What do you think it meant?” Humphrey asks and there’s an edge to his voice, an impressed and unsure tone. “Do you think there’s something to it? The sacrifice?”

“Of course not Mr. Clarke,” Louis answers derisively, quickly putting the card into his trouser pocket, just in case. “It was a big fat load of rubbish camouflaged under a mystical ambiance, you shouldn’t give it any thought. I certainly won’t,” he adds with determination, his heart squeezing as the word sacrifice pops in his mind.

“Alright,” Humphrey shrugs agreeably, already distracted again by everything surrounding them. “Should we keep looking around?” he asks.

“Why not,” Louis agrees, turning left to explore the next tent and waste a bit more time.

 

*

 

After what feels like forever and a visit to a bearded lady, to three arguing clowns and an old man who can apparently read animals’ thoughts, the show is starting to look more and more empty.

 _Finally,_ Louis thinks when they exit the mind reader’s tent to find most of the aisle void of any spectators. The evening hasn’t been unpleasant, of course not, but he doesn’t think he can take one more over the top, obviously fake and utterly disappointing act. Especially not after having to listen to an old man as he rattled on and on about his cat’s thoughts on the current prime minister while the cat meowed at opportune moments to try to add a hint of credibility to his ad libs. He is another talented actor on the show, Louis can’t deny that, but all that the act has done is cemented his firm belief that the sea-creature is going to be another well-coordinated trick featuring a talented enough man to make the public forget logic and discrepancies. He’s not the general public though and he won’t forget. Calling himself an expert would be quite arrogant, especially at his young age, but well… he’s pretty damn close to being one.

“I think now would be our moment,” Louis tells Humphrey before he gets too excited about trying another tent.

His student doesn’t share the same care for authenticity as Louis does. At least not when it comes to his casual entertainment… And if there’s one thing Humphrey has been tonight, it’s entertained. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen him laugh as much as when they chatted with Lou, the bearded lady. Louis can already imagine him pointing to a random tent they haven’t tried yet and excitedly asking to go in. No, thank you.

Humphrey’s face doesn’t fall as Louis feared and he doesn’t protest at all. Instead, he nods, eyes suddenly serious. “I agree. It seems like we’re finally alone,” he says, looking around. “Or as close as we’re going to get,” he adds when a young couple exit a tent a few seconds later.

“After you,” Louis says pointing towards where he knows the star tent is located.

When they finally reach it, Louis' heart is beating so fast in his chest he feels like it's going to burst out and run inside to have a look, leaving his frozen body behind. He knows he'll be disappointed. He knows it's the only possibility. The only thing that's going to happen is a terribly disappointing hoax inside this tent and yet. He can’t help the jitters of excitement bubbling underneath his skin because what if? What if it's not a hoax? What if it's the real deal on the other side of this fabric? He's not sure he's ready for either option truth to be told; both of them too frightening for him to even have a preference at this point.

"Ready?" Humphrey asks him, looking concerned.

Louis gulps, eyes still fixed on the poster stuck to the tent and the monstrosity that is drawn on it, with the teeth and the claws. What if that's truly what's inside?

"Don't worry," the man responsible for the now empty queue says dismissively. "It's contained. It won't hurt ya'"

Louis sighs and takes a step closer. "Not what I'm worried about," he whispers before shaking his head and stepping in.

He hears Humphrey's sharp inhale as soon as they step inside the tent and it's the last thing he's truly aware of before his brain finally catches up with what he's seeing and he realises the implication.

It's more than what he could have ever imagined.

There's a big sturdy wooden table in the middle of the tent, crudely made and simply designed but strong enough to hold the iron water tank that sits on top of it. It's huge, six feet long at least and no more than four feet high and wide, filled with water of course, and in it, the most remarkable being Louis has ever seen in his life.

If this is a hoax, it's frighteningly well executed.

"Oh my god," he hears Humphrey exclaims from behind him. He hears him take a few steps forward to take a closer look but Louis feels like he's the one under the water of this tank like every sound and movement is distorted, in slow motion, and he can only stand immobile, awed, unable to do anything.

He might be having an out of body experience because he can see and feel everything, but like it’s so far away, as removed from him as possible and he wishes he could come back to Earth to properly process this, but he can’t. He can only breathe too loud as he stares in complete and utter shock.

The man, the creature, is on his back in the tank, eyes fixed on the top of his cage, long thin fingers crossed together on his torso and there are no claws like the poster advertised, just hands, human hands and long brown hair forming a halo around his human face. Louis can see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and surely that's not possible, surely nothing can survive under water like this, but he can. Miraculously he can.

Louis shakes himself out of it and takes one, two, three steps closer, pushes Humphrey out of the way until he's so close he can almost press his nose to the glass.

"Amazing," he breathes out, shocked and shaking.

He can see what he thinks are gills on the side of the creature's chest and that's impossible, yet there they are, thin and delicate, and very much real. Louis isn’t exactly sure how he’s meant to process that.

"This is impossible," he continues, letting his eyes fall onto the merman's face and he doesn't look monstrous at all, nothing like the violent drawing Humphrey brought into his office. He's beautiful with full red lips and a defined jaw; the stuff of legends but real; a beauty to lead men and women to their peril at sea. Suddenly he understands all the legends and stories. With a smooth and pretty face like this, Louis would let himself be sung to his death willingly.

"How?" Louis asks Humphrey shakily, or the universe, he doesn't even know who he’s calling to for an explanation but surely he deserves one. He’s always believed and dreamed but this is beyond anything he’s ever even imagined, beyond what he’d hoped for. He can’t quite shake the feeling that this might not be real and yet his eyes aren’t deceiving him.

Louis starts walking down the length of the tank, eyes fixed on the perfectly human chest with its strong powerful abs and a cute little navel. Everything seems normal until Louis’ eyes reach the gills again, low on the side of the hybrid’s torso, underneath his ribs and he almost has to pinch himself to believe it. He starts walking again only to stop in his tracks when he reaches where the body transforms into a tail, scrutinizing the way the skin smoothly changes into scales, looking for any traces of forgery.

Of course, there are none. Just a steady, fluid transition as the pale skin becomes silvery and blue, shimmering like a jewel, a long powerful tail that looks like nothing Louis could have ever dreamed up.

"It's real," he frowns as he keeps on walking and arrives at the end of the tank where the tail separates into two delicate silver fins.

He gets even closer, nose bumping into the glass and eyes bulging out. "How is it real?"

“It’s incredible!” Humphrey exclaims excitedly, clapping his hands in delight. “It’s all we’ve ever wanted!”

“But how?” Louis whispers against the glass. He turns slightly; looking back at the creature’s face and he hasn’t moved at all, is still staring at the top of the tank with a serious and stoic face. “Where did you come from Swimmy?” he asks like he’s telling him a secret, one finger stroking the glass softly, following the shape of his fin. “What a beautiful being you are,” he adds with a sigh, reverent and overwhelmed.

“I wonder what’s the story,” Humphrey asks, walking around the tank to look at the creature from the other side, his eyes meeting Louis’ through the water.

“Yes,” Louis whispers with a small smile. “I wonder.”

 

*

 

They leave the tent in silence twenty minutes later, after getting kicked out by the grumpy man working the queue who spends one full minute complaining that if they want to stare some more they’ll have to come back another night and pay for it. They don’t bother with arguing, choosing to leave silently instead. As they’re walking through the empty site in a daze, Louis feels illuminated, like he’s been stumbling in the dark for most of his life, like he’s been desperately looking for the light like a starved man and he’s finally seen the sun for the very first time. He’s been hoping for so long that it feels almost surreal for him to think about what he’s just seen. Every time he tries his heart jumps in his chest and a part of him can’t help but feel like he’s dreamed the whole thing. But he didn’t. He didn’t dream it at all. The mermaid – merman? – was there, truly there in front of his eyes, and he feels giddy at the thought of this majestic creature and the implications of his existence. He’s a child again, excited and passionate, but, more importantly, hopeful. After all those years of disappointments, he’s truly, fully, hopeful.

He’s walking briskly through the site, a spring in his step and he can hear Humphrey trying to catch up with him but Louis doesn’t stop. He’s too overwhelmingly animated to slow down, too lost in his own mind to even acknowledge another human being. He needs more. He needs to know everything, every single detail, about this marvellous being. He needs to know where he comes from and what he eats. He needs to know where he lives in his natural habitat … Does he live in a school? By himself? How does he communicate? Is he more fish or human in his behaviour? So many questions burning on the tip of Louis’ tongue, so many answers that feel just out of reach...

Louis is dying to know.

“Professor?” Humphrey calls as they walk through the gate and finally exit the site to get back on the now empty streets.

There’s a hint of a plan starting to form in Louis’ mind, something a bit crazy but one that could really pay off and he chuckles to himself as it elaborates seemingly by itself with no effort on his part. It’s brilliant. It might be the best idea he’s ever had.

“Professor Tomlinson?” Humphrey calls again as Louis speeds up and starts walking with even more enthusiasm.

They need to get to the train as quickly as possible, need to get back to Oxford so that he can start properly planning this whole thing. If he can pull this off, he’ll get the opportunity to learn everything there is to know about this creature.

“Louis,” Humphrey finally yells loudly from a few steps behind and the use of his first name drags him out of his daydream and makes him stop abruptly.

“Yes?” he replies, turning around and when he faces his student he realises that he’s gone faster than he meant to and that Humphrey is more than a couple of steps away.

Humphrey takes a quick run to join him, a worried and curious look on his face. “Are you alright, Sir?” he asks once they are back face to face.

Louis smiles and he knows he probably looks manic, but he can’t find it in himself to care about it now.

“I’m great!” Louis laughs hysterically. “Never been better!”

Humphrey doesn’t look particularly convinced. He frowns and grabs Louis’ shoulder, squeezing, the concerned look on his face only getting deeper.

“Are you… quite sure?”

Louis chuckles to himself, face hidden in his palm before raising both of his arms triumphantly, face up to the sky.

“It’s a brand new world, Mr. Clarke!”  Louis gasps, spinning around drunkenly, eyes still up and taking most of the sidewalk.

Humphrey laughs at his antics and Louis feels a burst of warmth spread through his body.

“We’ve finally got proof!” he yells to the stars, still giddy. “Ah!” he adds victoriously, straightening himself and grabbing his student’s shoulders and staring into his eyes. “Did you see him?” Louis asks even though he knows the answer.

He needs confirmation, needs somebody else to say it, to enjoy this moment with him.

“I did,” Humphrey nods happily. “I saw him.”

“Remarkable, wasn’t he?” Louis insists.

Remarkable seems to fall short, but it’s the best word he’s got to describe the experience he’s had tonight.

“Yes,” Humphrey agrees breathlessly. “It was…” He takes a deep breath and he doesn’t have words either, is opening and closing his mouth to try and describe what they’ve seen, but he can’t do it.

There’s something reassuring and sweet in the thought that it’s overwhelmed the both of them similarly, that they’re both beyond words and that Louis is not alone in this moment of exaltation.

“Do you know what it means?” Louis asks insistently. “Do you?”

Humphrey nods but Louis needs to elaborate still.

“We were right,” he laughs wetly. “All along,” he says with a frown, looking past Humphrey’s shoulders at the ghosts of everyone who ever mocked him. “We were right,” he repeats softly, to them, to himself.

“What are you going do?” Humphrey asks, wide-eyed and excited.

“I’m going to study him,” Louis declares with a confident nod. “I’m going to learn everything there is to know about his kind. I’m going to write an article -no, a book!” he exclaims, letting go of Humphrey’s shoulders to point insistently at his chest. “I’m going to write the most detailed and accurate book about mermaids there ever was. And it won’t be fairy tales or fiction nonsense either. I’m going to tell the true story. I’m going to give conferences all around the world so that everyone knows about this!” he finishes passionately.

Humphrey doesn’t say anything for a second before grimacing awkwardly. “And how are you going to do that exactly? I can’t imagine Mr. Cowell would be too happy sharing his main attraction…”

Louis smiles knowingly at the comment. He already has the answer. “That’s why I’ve got to be sneaky about it,” he says with what he hopes is a mysterious and intriguing enough tone. Might as well start using his acting skills straight away.

“Sneaky… how?”

“I’m going to get a job there,” Louis smiles, raising his eyebrows eagerly.

Humphrey frowns automatically when he hears it but wipes it off his face quickly to ask Louis for clarifications. “At _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_?”

Louis nods. “Aha,” he hums. It’s honestly quite genius if he dares to think so himself. “Deep undercover,” he adds happily, dragging out the end of the word, almost singing it in his excitement.

“No offence Professor,” Humphrey starts saying carefully, taking a deep breath before continuing. “But… have you ever done any manual work?” he asks. “Ever?”

“I’ve done some field work!” Louis argues, slightly offended to discover that his assistant hasn’t been paying as much attention to his expedition stories as he had hoped. “Or have you forgotten all about my work in Scotland?” he adds pettily.

“Staying for hours in a small boat, eyes fixed on a loch isn’t manual labour.”

Louis winces. "How hard can it be?” he asks with a nonchalant shrug.


	4. Chapter Three

_Yorkshire, 1878_

It all starts when Louis is just short of nine years old, on the night of the winter solstice, although that’s not something he realises until much later. It’s well past midnight, closer to early morning than the night, and the entire household has long gone to sleep already. There’s not a sound or movement in the huge house and Louis has been counting sheep for what feels like the whole of eternity; one little sheep after the other, unable to fall asleep even after getting to over fifteen hundred. He’s getting irritated and quite frankly extremely bored. The night is long when he’s all by himself with no distractions. His mother would tell him reading a book always relaxes her to sleep and while Louis is not averse to reading, it’s not quite exciting enough for a young boy whose birthday and Christmas are quickly coming up. He’s eager, which is why leaving the comfort of the house to take a walk seems like the most delightful of plans.

His family would tell him it’s not quite reasonable to go out at this time of night, in the middle of winter, but Louis is looking for an adventure and as he wraps a long wool scarf three times around his neck, he truly doesn’t care. The only thing he’s thinking about as he grabs a lantern from the servant’s quarters is what a great story this will make for him to brag to the older boy next door who keeps calling him names behind their nannies’ back. He’ll go to the woods to the left of their estate even though it’s the middle of the night and Oliver will just have to be impressed.

He uses the servants' door at the back, knowing it'll be more subtle that way, and once he's finally out of the house he lets out a violent shiver. It's colder than he expected, colder than it's been for the past couple of days, but he won't let himself be discouraged. The only thing he needs to do is get to the woods, once there he'll be free to come back and admit to himself this was a terrible idea. But for now, he's got something to prove, something silly maybe, but the idea of appearing brave and daring is much more appealing than giving up because of a few minutes in the cold.

He soldiers on, regretting the woollen hat he always hates wearing and that he's left inside. It takes him a bit longer to get to the woods than usual, the snow and cold temperature slowing his progress, but once he's finally at the edge Louis lets out a small giggle. Here he is, in the big dark scary forest, in the middle of the night, with no one to help or reassure... he'd like to see Oliver calling him a coward now or claim he's too little to play with. He's sick of being told he can only play with his younger sisters. It ends tonight and that's final.

"Alright then," Louis mumbles to himself, taking the first step into the woods. Only walking to the edge simply wouldn't do, he has something to prove after all and he's not scared at all.

Except he is a little because he's never been to the woods completely alone before, especially not at night, and he's not sure if it's his imagination playing tricks on him but everything seems more menacing in the dark, like the forest itself is out to get him as he takes his first tentative steps. The branches look like they're trying to grip him, menacing and tenacious, and of course, Louis knows it's probably nothing, it’s probably just in his mind, but he can't help but think about the stories his nanny tells him, stories about monsters hiding in the dark and how dangerous it is to venture outside.

Still, he keeps walking. He promised himself he would get to the weirdest oak tree on their land and he will. The strange oak is unique in the forest, a tree twisted on itself with the most bizarre shape Louis has ever seen in his life. It's famous on the Estate because of its shape and if he manages to get there, Oliver will know he was in the forest for a while since the tree is so far out. He shivers, wrapping his coat a bit closer to his body, his hands icy as it grips the lantern tighter and he tries to raise it higher despite its weight in an attempt to see the path better. He lets out a relieved sigh when he realises he's almost made it and that means he can soon go back home, but his relief doesn't last very long when he gets to the edge of the clearing where the oak tree resides.

He gasps at the sight, frozen on the spot as he stares at the wonder happening in front of his very eyes. It’s magic, it must be. There are hundreds of golden lights floating around the oak with a low humming sound, circling it over and over again in a tornado of colour and Louis’ eyes widen as he stares at the phenomenon in awe. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his young life, feels slightly hypnotised by the sight and he can’t stop himself from taking a few steps forward, anything to get a closer look. It doesn’t even cross his mind to be afraid. He feels so at peace as he watches the lights turn and turn and he hears their enchanting song, so low he has to pay close attention to hear it. It’s a comforting lullaby that feels like the Earth itself is hugging him, and he’s being warmed up to his core by the power of that sound.

“Wow,” he whispers, taking another step forward, trying to see the lights properly.

He could swear he sees the whirlwind of tiny wings fluttering when one of them passes a hint too close to him but it can’t be a bug at this time of year surely. He frowns, takes another step and yelps when he feels one of them pinching him like there are tiny fingers gripping his skin, or biting him he’s not quite sure, but it stings and he rubs the skin of his cheek quickly to try and relieve the pain.

He’s not sure what they are or if they’re dangerous, but he can’t bring himself to run even after they’ve hurt him slightly. It’s like he can’t move, like he’s stuck there forever and nothing could make him leave. He listens to the song, enchanted by the spectacle for what feels like hours but can’t actually be more than a couple of minutes until the lights start flying more and more rapidly around the tree. They seem urgent suddenly, the atmosphere transforming from a golden peace into a frantic need, even the humming becoming high-pitched and agitated. Louis can feel his breath quickening automatically, an abrupt unease wrapping around his heart and he can swear he hears a distant voice ordering him to leave. He gulps, feeling suddenly out of place, like he’s seeing something he should never have witnessed and when he hears the voice ordering him again, this time much louder, he runs away and doesn’t look back.

He gets scolded for getting out of bed in the middle of the night the next morning and even the mark on his cheek isn’t enough to convince his family of what happened. In fact, it takes him almost ten years to find kindred spirits who believe his story, who teach him more about faeries and their rituals, but that hardly matters. From then on, Louis knows that there’s more.

 

*

 

The last few days of the semester seem to stretch on like never before; a never-ending string of evaluations to supervise, papers to read and correct, dull and predictable presentations to listen to… It’s an academic nightmare from which Louis feels like he’ll never be freed. When his last day of correction finally arrives, Louis swears he’s never felt such sweet relief.

He can finally dedicate himself to what his heart truly desires.

He’s been spending the past couple of weeks planning the “undercover operation”, as he likes to call it, gathering information about the freak show and Mr. Cowell, and of course, developing a more inconspicuous wardrobe than the formal suits he wears at Oxford. He’s particularly proud of the wool grey cap he’s managed to find. It’s been worn over and over again and there’s an obvious hole on the right side but it perfectly suits the image he’s aiming for. He only needs to go beg for a job now and hope he’ll be successful. And that there are vacancies of course. He thinks he’s heard something about a member of the cleaning crew getting sick and leaving the previous day when he was creeping around the site so he likes to think that there’s hope for him still.

Louis is busy packing away his oldest clothes and his new, old, purchases in a tattered suitcase when he’s disturbed by a knock on his office door. He sighs, praying it’s not an impatient student come to beg for a hint at their grade as he drags his feet to reach the door. It’s a bit callous of him not to want to engage with them, and he’s usually much more attentive, but today is the day. Today is the day it finally starts. And he just can’t wait.

He’s pleasantly surprised to find Humphrey on the other side when he opens the door.

"Mr. Clarke!" he says happily, taking a step sideways to let him in. "I'm surprised you're still here. I thought for sure you were taking the earliest train up north this morning."

"Mama wanted me to, but I wanted a bit more time to pack," Humphrey replies which basically translates to _I wanted to sleep in_. Not that Louis blames him.

Humphrey walks into the office, careful of the mess in the middle of the floor. Clothes and books are scattered all around the room, blank notebooks and pens piled up on the desk as well, the old suitcase still empty and opened on the floor.

Louis is in the very early stages of packing.

Humphrey doesn't even seem surprised. He walks slowly, on the tip of his toes, to avoid stepping on anything until he reaches the chair in front of Louis' desk. He stops when he sees the coat on it, raising an inquisitive eyebrow towards his teacher.

"Oh," Louis says before grabbing the coat and dropping it on the floor. "Here," he adds, gesturing towards the now empty chair. He takes a few seconds to walk around his desk to sit in his before smiling at Humphrey. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, another reason why I haven't left yet was because I wanted to say goodbye first and thank you for a great year."

"You'll be back?" Louis asks like a statement, tone expectant and eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

"Oh of course!" Humphrey replies automatically, nodding enthusiastically as he says so. "I'm not done with my degree yet and there's always the matter of our... peculiar research," he adds with a tiny smirk.

"Good," Louis says, copying his smile. Humphrey is the most interesting, and interested, student he has. The last thing he wants is to lose him to all the rational people in the world.

“You’ll be back?” Humphrey asks back, a hint worried.

“Mr. Higgins hasn’t said anything suggesting the opposite yet,” Louis replies. He’s not as worried about it anymore. Not with the incredible truth they’ve uncovered always in the back of his mind.

“Good,” Humphrey replies. "I also wanted to ask... about your plan?" he continues. Ah, of course. That’s why he’s here. Louis should have expected it.

They haven’t had the time to discuss things further after coming back from the show, what with the threat of final examinations looming, so it makes sense for such a curious lad to want the details before leaving for the summer. Louis would have done the same.

Humphrey stops to look at the mess surrounding them. "Though I assume you're going forward with it?"

"What gave you that impression?" Louis asks jokingly with a shrug. "Of course, I'm going forward,” he says widening his eyes dramatically and staring at Humphrey likes he’s an idiot. “I'm actually headed there today," he confides excitedly.

Humphrey's mouth opens in surprise. "Oh. So soon?"

Louis scoffs. "Well, there is no time to lose Humphrey. Every minute I waste not being there, the opportunity for precious knowledge is being lost, why would I want to delay?"

"Of course,” Humphrey nods, still looking unsure. “It’s just… do you feel ready?”

Does he feel ready? It's a good question, one Louis hasn't really wasted time on, truth be told, simply because it doesn't matter to him. Ready or not, Louis is going and he's going to make it work, whatever the cost. He's pledged it to himself and so even if it is a bit nerve-wracking to attempt it, he's still going. Readiness has little to do with it.

"I don't care," Louis replies candidly. "I'm going to make it happen."

"I don't doubt it," Humphrey says, sincerity and a hint of admiration in his eyes. "Well, I can't wait to be back and hear all about your findings. I can still hardly believe what we've seen. I have to pinch myself whenever I think about it, just to make sure I haven't made it up," he says, a hint of red colouring his cheeks in embarrassment as he admits it.

Louis laughs with no mockery before rubbing at his nose and opening his mouth. "Me too," he reveals in a whisper. "And I've been there more than once. Well, technically I haven't been back inside because I didn't want them to recognise me if I went too often. Didn't want to seem suspicious, you know? But still... it seems too good to be true?"

Humphrey agrees quickly with a nod, his head moving up and down so fast Louis thinks he might hurt himself.

"It's not, though," Louis continues and he knows his voice has gone embarrassingly soft and awed, but he can't help himself even if he feels a bit nervous.

Things that seem too good to be true often are.

 

*

 

It almost seems wrong to go to the freak show during the day. There's none of the magic the show exudes at night, none of the excitement of the crowd rubbing off on Louis. In fact, the place is completely deserted. Even the street leading up to the lot all the tents are occupying is empty. There's no chatter or noise. The area is silent and Louis shudders nervously, his hands clammy on his suitcase's handle as he takes the final steps to the big fence enclosing the show.

The doors are closed, of course, and Louis feels a bit silly standing there, hopping from foot to foot slightly, buzzing with nervous energy and trying to gather the courage to make himself known. He has no idea if his plan is even going to work and he feels a mixture of nauseated and excited at the prospect of what he's about to do. He takes a deep breath to gather up some courage before knocking loudly on the door.

He waits, and waits, and waits, but there is no answer.

He grimaces, knocking again, louder and longer, hoping that someone in this strange secluded world will feel curious enough to let him in. He presses his ear against the wood, trying to listen in and see if he can hear someone coming but the sounds he manages to grasp seem distant and foreign, nothing like enthusiastic footsteps coming to greet him.

Louis sighs, his whole body leaning on the door now and he bangs his foot in frustration against the wood, regretting the kick as soon as it’s done as pain explodes up to his ankle.

"Damn," he whispers angrily, grabbing his shoe where the ache is sharpest even though he knows it will do little to help. He hops around a little, away from the door and back towards the street, holding his foot still and grimacing.

He'll have to figure something else out; he will have to come back when the show is open. It's not exactly ideal considering he wanted privacy to make his case, but it will have to do he supposes.

He's about to leave, resolute to limp pathetically to a pub to waste some time until nightfall when the squeaky sound of door hinges makes him turn around quickly.

There's a man in the doorway, tall and handsome with a serious and inquisitive look on his face.

"Can I help you?" he asks, abruptly, straight to the point and Louis finds himself nodding without even meaning to.

"I hope so," he replies, walking back to face him. "I'm Louis," he says, offering his hand.

The man looks at it with disdain. "And?"

 _Friendly_ , Louis thinks, trying to school his face into a neutral expression. The last thing he wants is to not get hired because he couldn't hide the fact that he thinks this man is a bit of a jerk well enough. That would be a stupid reason for his dreams to die and he refuses to let it happen.

"I'm looking for a job," he says quickly, the sentence rushed and clumsy, and for a second he hates himself because he's usually much more eloquent than this but he's nervous.

He wants it so badly.

"What type of job?" the man asks and he looks mildly interested, eyeing Louis up and down to measure him up and something settles in his stomach.

He's heard correctly. They do need someone and if they need someone then why shouldn't it be him? He can do this; he can talk himself into anything.

"Anything," Louis says confidently, raising his chin and puffing his chest, trying to appear taller than he is. "I can do anything you need. I'm ready to do long hours. I'm a hard worker."

"Our night janitor's left," the man admits.

Just like Louis heard in one of his many sneaky visits. He's never really cleaned anything in his life but it hardly matters. This job is going to be his, he’ll figure out the rest later.

"I can do that."

"You seem eager," the man says suspiciously.

Louis laughs self-deprecatingly, mentally thanking his years of drama at university. "You'd be eager too if you had lost your job and had been kicked out of your room at the same time," he says with just a hint of vulnerability, not too much to seem unmanly to this beast of a man, but just enough to make him compassionate.

It seems to work, the bearded man nodding with sympathy at Louis' misfortunes. "Well, you'll be happy to hear everyone who works here lives on site," he says with a formal nod. "Come on, I'll show you your caravan and I’ll get someone to teach you the work."

And just like that, Louis is part of the team.

 

*

 

It’s strange, experiencing _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ after closing hours, even stranger than seeing it during the day. Just like that afternoon, there’s none of the lights or the excitement that usually characterises the show. Instead, there’s an eerie silence dominating the entire site. The main difference though lies in the fact that when it’s this empty and dark, the tents transform themselves into intimidating shapes. They’re tall towers, the show’s guardians, making Louis feel misplaced and unwelcome. He doesn't get scared easily but this is not a friendly atmosphere, to say the least. Still, he has a job to start tonight and it's worth a few hours in the uncomfortably silent site if he gets to spend his days near the creature and being able to subtly question everyone about it.

He hasn't quite fully concretised his plan yet but it mostly involves asking everyone and anyone in the show what they know about the merman and then, of course, observing him himself. He brought several new notebooks with him, has packed them tightly with all of his clothes, and he plans on using them wisely by writing every single thing he hears about the creature without leaving anything out.  

After all, this research is of utmost importance.

This is finally going to be what makes his academic peers treat him with respect. This is what will bring him notoriety and an esteemed name in the field. More importantly, this might be the one thing that makes him climb right back into Mr. Higgins’ regard and saves his job. Basically, this is what will change his life. It has to be; he's been waiting for this day ever since he was a child, ever since he heard the first whispers that there was something more out there, something magical and different, something beyond the normality of human life. It has to work.

It takes Louis more than three hours to get through the whole site, tent by tent, armed with nothing but a broom and a small bucket filled with soapy water and a rag. Turns out manual labour is actually demanding and Louis hates every second of it as he picks up various candy wrappers left behind by the show's customers. The place is filthier than he expected and it seems like a lot of work for only one person, especially on the first night when he has no experience. He keeps expecting to mess things up, to move something important in one of the tents that will get him fired in the morning and he keeps repeating Jimmy's instructions over and over again in his mind as he slowly gets through the whole site, just to be sure he doesn't forget one piece of information.

Jimmy, the tired looking senior member of the crew, had been pretty clear with the instructions during the tour he took Louis on earlier during the day, before the show's opening, but it was a while ago. Louis likes to think he has a pretty strong memory, but there was a lot of information to retain. He’s not ashamed to admit that he feels a bit uncertain. Still, picking up trash isn't necessarily hard, even if it's quite unpleasant, so he powers through with a hint of clumsiness that comes with the inexperience of a grown man who has had people picking after him his entire life.

When he gets to the second to last tent, the fortune teller's tent, Louis hears a loud moan just as he’s about to enter. He startles slightly, thinking he might have imagined it for a second before he hears giggly whispering voices. Louis doesn’t recognise them, isn’t even sure Zayn is actually one of them, and he stays stuck in place for a few minutes unsure how to proceed. He needs to clean this place up. Jimmy was very specific on that point. He doesn’t have to take care of any of the cleaning during the day, doesn’t have to take care of any other tents or caravan in the show, but the artists’ tents are all his to polish every night. Missing one of them one his first night on the job is not a notable option. Then again neither is interrupting whoever is in there.

He’s mentally debating which alternative is the less appalling when a second breathy moan is heard. His eyes widen at the sound as he tries to hide his giggle behind his hand and finally decides to skip the place entirely. He’ll probably have to face the consequences in the morning but for now, he absolutely cannot imagine himself walking in with a broom and bucket to clean the place around what he assumes are enthusiastic lovers. It would simply be indelicate. Besides, he's not sure he would feel comfortable touching things in there. He remembers it vividly from when he first came to see the show with Humphrey and it's the most personal tent of them all. With furniture and knickknacks, piles of stuff lying around that he really doesn’t feel would be his right to touch. It would be like going through a stranger's private things and Louis isn't sure he's ready for that. The idea seems rude. Although, he supposes he has had strangers, maids and nannies, going through his things his entire life and it hasn't bothered him yet. Maybe it would be the same with Zayn. Who knows? Still, he doesn’t want to risk it. Not tonight. Not yet. Besides, he only has one tent left and Louis has kept the best for last.

He's a bit more tired than he wanted to feel for his reunion with Swimmy but it doesn't matter. He knows he would never have been able to concentrate on anything else after seeing him again, knows there's no way he would have been able to get back to work after being faced with the extraordinary again. Louis would probably have been found the next morning, frozen in place in front of Swimmy's tank, having abandoned the night’s work in favour of hours of staring. He idly wonders how long they would have given him to explain as he takes the right turn to get to the tent. Not too long, he supposes when he finally reaches it.

It's there. He'll finally see the sea-hybrid again; will finally know if it was nothing more than a dream. Of course it wasn't, but it doesn't stop his heart from starting to race and his mind from going a million miles a minute, imagining the different possible scenarios that could happen when he finally steps into this tent for the second time.

He's being silly. He knows what's going to happen. He'll push the flap out of the way and walk in to find Swimmy in his tank on the table. Just like last time. Except this time he can stay as long as he wants. This time, Louis has until morning to take it all in. As long as he gets the work done, he can stay up for every single second that the night has to offer. He can take it all in as long as he wants.

“Come on Louis,” he tells himself shakily. “Stop being stupid and get in.”

He doesn't follow his own advice. Instead, he stares at the tent a little bit longer.

 _Gosh, why am I even nervous_ , he thinks mockingly before pushing forward and walking in.

It looks exactly the same as a few weeks ago, just as he mentally predicted. The merman's tank hasn't moved, still showcased in the middle of the tent with nothing but bare space surrounding it. There’s no need for artifices in here, no need for decorations or flourish. Unlike the other acts, that Louis suspects to be fake, Swimmy is exceptional enough by himself.

What else could they add anyway? The background completely fades away as soon as anyone comes in, the impressive elusive figure is the only thing on anyone’s mind as soon as it’s in sight.

Swimmy is motionless, just like before, still in his tank but on his side, this time, his back to the opening of the tent, refusing the immediate sight of his face to any passers-by. Louis thought for sure he must have had exaggerated the delicate fins at the bottom of his tail, or the way it shines silver, blue and beautiful. Surely he must have had exaggerated the broadness of his shoulders and the halo of his hair. He hasn't though. Swimmy is still there in all of his glory and Louis lets out a giggle from where he’s standing by the door. 

"Amazing," he whispers to himself before shaking his head. He has to start cleaning straight away. Otherwise, he never will.

The good news is that there isn't much to do in here. Louis is not sure if it's the impressive presence of the sea-hybrid or the bareness of the tent, but _Mr. Cowell's Spectacular's Extravaganza!_ 's customers seem to behave more carefully in here than anywhere else on the site. There's barely a couple of wrappers on the floor, the equivalent of maybe thirty seconds of Louis’ time.

Next, he’s been told to clean the exterior of the tank, wash the glass for fingertip traces and makes sure it’s spotless for the next day. This, surprisingly, proves to be a challenge.

“Goddamnit,” he blurts out after two minutes of rubbing the rag in circles on the glass. No matter what he does, it simply seems to smudge even further. “How is this even possible?” he argues against the rag. “How can you look dirtier than before?” he asks Swimmy’s back.

Obviously arguing against an object and the creature inside of it is counter-productive and Louis is aware of that but it does help with the frustration building up inside of him.

“This is stupid,” he mumbles, trying again, determinately.

He makes things worse. Again.

He tries three more times before mentally declaring the first side clean enough to move on. He’d like to dare anyone else on this godforsaken site to do a better job. It’s an impossible task anyway. The three other sides go about as well as the first, except this time he has more than the merman’s back to distract him. He can look more fully at his body, at his face, and he takes his time rubbing the glass over and over, taking it all in. Louis lets his gaze follow the slow rise and fall of the boy’s chest as he breathes through the water, trying to spot if there are differences from humans in the way his body moves. He doesn’t spot any straight away, but he’s still enthralled by the possibilities. The merboy’s eyes are closed so Louis can’t observe them to try and see a hint of emotion or response, to see if he’s closer to animals or humans, but he supposes he has time for that later. Instead, he focuses on the gills underneath the hybrid’s ribs, mentally making a list of all their characteristics so he can write them down as soon as he gets back to his caravan.

He’d love to get an even closer look, would love to ask questions and to examine, but for now, this – this approximate lonely observation- is enough.

 

*

 

“Hey, what are you doing in here!” an Irish accent calls out the next morning as Louis takes a morning stroll and tries to remember where the kitchen tent is. 

Right, this is whom he would run into during his second day.

“I’m new. I’m with the night crew?” Louis offers in his defense. “Louis Tomlinson,” he says quickly, offering his hand out to Niall, hoping the young man doesn’t remember him. It’s unlikely. After all, he must entertain hundreds of people each week, what with the popularity of the show. Why would he remember someone like Louis? Their interaction had nothing memorable.

“Hey,” Niall says invitingly, taking the few steps necessary to join him, wearing a friendly smile. “Wait, I know you,” he says, retracting his hand, pressing it against his chest, leaving Louis' hanging limply in the air. 

“I don’t think so,” Louis chuckles nervously, trying to roughen his posh accent a little.

Niall purses his lips, a confused expression on his face but he still looks amused somehow. He's not wearing the bright red suit Louis saw him in the first time they met, looks a bit more like a human being rather than a walking piece of entertainment.

"I think I do," he chuckles. "You're that posh lad who stayed with Swimmy for twenty minutes," he exclaims a bit too loudly for comfort and Louis' eyes widen in panic, scared he'll be found out and fired not even two days into work. "Why are you wearing old clothes?” he scrunches his nose in confusion.

"Hush!" Louis warns, grabbing Niall's arm forcefully and dragging him into the shadow of a silent caravan. They’re in what Jimmy referred to as the “behind the scenes” area, where all the performers and crew members live. It’s separated from the show’s site by a big wooden fence, guarded by a scary looking man twice Louis’ size. He’s not sure whose home this particular caravan is but, hopefully, they’ve already gone out to get breakfast and they won’t hear what he has to tell Niall.

"Ow," Niall complains while pushing Louis away. "What is wrong with you rich people?"

"Sorry," Louis apologises, biting his lips nervously. He can feel his heartbeat quickening at the thought of being exposed. He has to convince Niall to play along.

"So it is you then?" Niall says, frank and cocky, arms crossed over his chest and ignoring Louis' apology.

"Yes, but please don't tell anyone," Louis begs.

"You don't need to work here," Niall says and it's not a question but Louis feels the need to explain himself anyway.

"You're right. I don't. I don’t need to work here at all, but I do now. I mean, I want to."

Niall grimaces and looks at Louis like he's completely insane, barking mad and maybe he is a bit, but it's not necessarily a bad thing. "Why?" he asks, appalled at the thought.

"I couldn't walk away. Not after seeing him," Louis admits and his heart skips a beat, like each time he thinks about the remarkable creature _Mr. Cowell's Spectacular Extravaganza!_ has been hiding.  

"Ah," Niall says knowingly. "Swimmy got you good. You're curious now."

It's not exactly like that, but it will do for now and if that's something Niall can understand and if it means he'll keep Louis' secret then that's all that matters. A half-truth can't hurt anybody.

"I am. I'm a professor, there's not much to do in the summers. Here, at least, I can learn about one of the world's most... surprising creatures."

"I understand," Niall says and he sounds and looks sincere.

"You won't tell anybody?" Louis still asks because he can’t help being worried. Niall can look and sound like the most sincere person in London but it doesn’t change the fact that Louis doesn’t know him at all.

"You're not trying to ruin the show are ya? Not gonna steal away our star or sabotage us, right? This is completely selfish?" he asks with a serious look on his face and Louis gets it. After all, he's on the brink of losing his livelihood himself if things don't change soon. He can understand that fear a little too well.

"Purely selfish, that's me," he chuckles in response.

"Alright," Niall says and his infectious smile is back. He offers Louis his hand who grabs it to shake straight away. "Welcome to the show then."

"Thank you," Louis smiles, still feeling a bit nervous.

“Did you get the tour?” Niall asks excitedly.

Louis finds himself nodding. “Yeah, Jimmy showed me around yesterday.”

Niall grimaces. “So basically, he pointed at all the empty tents and told you what you had to clean in each of them?”

Louis bursts out laughing. “Yes!”

“That’s _not_ a proper tour,” Niall says, looking properly offended and grabbing Louis’ bicep. “Come on! I’ll introduce you to everybody.”

 

*

 

Forty-five minutes later, Louis’ head is buzzing with information and he doesn’t think he can remember the last time he’s laughed so hard. Turns out when he’s not anxiously waiting for an opportunity to see a mythical being and he’s not annoyed at every single thing, Louis doesn’t think Niall is bothersome at all. Quite the opposite! He’s as lively as he was on the show but much more interesting as he shares stories after stories about the artists he keeps introducing. Mostly embarrassing, but also sometimes charming or touching, most of the tales involve small towns and unplanned catastrophes. From François, the man who juggles with fake swords, to Mark, the weightlifter who sat Louis on one of his shoulders to punish him for daring to doubt his strength, Louis feels like he’s starting to know the lively cast of _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ pretty well.

“And this,” Niall says with a smile when they arrive at the next caravan. “ This is Lou, our famous bearded lady.”

He’s pointing to a beautiful young woman sitting on the steps leading to the open door of her caravan, wearing a simple grey dress and feeding pieces of bread to a little girl.

Louis stares at her bare face a beat too long. He knew it.

“And how long does it take you to get bearded?” he asks teasingly, pointing at her naked chin.  

She laughs good-naturedly, tightening her arms around the small blonde child sitting on her lap. “Secret of the trade I’m afraid,” she replies with a shrug. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Louis raises an eyebrow at the comment. “Who knew hair was such a serious business?” he deadpans and both she and Niall laugh happily.

“Oh, it is,” Lou insists, “and who might you be?” she asks and he didn’t think she would remember him. After all, Humphrey was the one who talked to her the most but it’s a relief to have it confirmed.

He’s about to respond when Niall puts an arm around his shoulders and takes over. “This is Louis, he’s going to take over Archie’s job.”

Lou’s face darkens at the mention of her ill co-worker. “Of course, I’m pleased to meet you,” she says, offering him a hand.

Louis shakes it for a second. “Likewise,” he replies before turning his attention towards the adorable little girl who seems completely enthralled by her meal. “And who might this be?” Louis asks, smiling widely with crinkly eyes.

“This is the tiniest man alive of course,” Niall replies like it’s supposed to be obvious.

“It’s a little girl,” Louis argues seriously, even though he can guess where Niall is going with this. “About five years old?” he guesses, looking at Lou for confirmation.

She nods, seeming slightly impressed. “That’s right,” she says with a smile.

“Well,” Niall interrupts. “In here, she’s the tiniest man alive and she’s one of our most popular attractions.”

Louis grimaces. “How do you even manage to make people believe that?” It’s completely ridiculous.

“With make-up,” Niall shrugs. “And a man hiding to do the voice.”

Louis snorts. He didn’t stop by the _tiniest man alive_ ’s tent the night he visited the show, but he mentally adds it to his to-do list. He really wants to see the hilarity of a five years old mouthing words that are pronounced by a man hidden somewhere. It sounds utterly ridiculous and he has to experience it first hand. He’s already planning to include the anecdote in his first letter to Humphrey.

“Oi, stop giving away all of our secrets Horan!” Lou scolds. “This is my daughter Lux,” she tells Louis, ignoring Niall’s pouting face. “Well, when she’s not busy being a little star. ”

The girl perks up at the sound of her name, seeming to notice them only then. “Niall!” she calls happily, jumping off her mother’s lap to hug Niall’ legs tightly.

“Hiya Luxie,” he calls, his smile softening. “Did you sleep well?”

Lux nods in his legs before taking a step back. “I did,” she declares solemnly. “Did you?”

“I’d go as far as to say extremely well,” Niall replies after humming pensively for a second. “This is Louis,” he adds, pointing at him and Louis waves in what he hopes is a friendly manner. “He’s going to work here now.”

“Hello,” Lux says, waving back a bit shyly.

“Hello,” Louis echoes, utterly charmed. She reminds him of his sister Charlotte when she was that young. Beautiful, slightly shy and with long blonde hair… he’s really due for a visit home soon.

She looks at him expectantly until he waves back, then nods, satisfied, and turns around to climb back onto her mother’s lap.

“Careful sweetie,” Lou whispers when she gets hit in the knee. She gives Niall a dirty look when he laughs before bringing her attention back to her daughter.

“We’ll see you later then,” Niall calls before dragging Louis away.

“It was nice meeting you,” Louis turns around to say but he’s not sure Lou was paying any attention.

“That’s it, I think,” Niall says once they’ve left. “I think you met everybody.”

Louis only hesitates a second before opening his mouth. “What about Mr. Cowell?” he asks.

Niall chuckles awkwardly. “Simon? He’s the owner. He doesn’t really mingle, but… you’ll see him around sooner or later. Trust me,” he says almost absently. “He keeps us all in order,” he adds and Louis isn’t sure what Niall means by that, but he certainly intends on finding out.

“What about your fortune teller friend?” he asks, changing the subject. Louis has been dreading meeting him again though he’s not quite sure why.  “Zayn? Wasn’t it?”

Niall’s smile softens again, just like it did when Lux hugged him, except it’s sweeter this time, better somehow.

“He’s still asleep for sure,” he chuckles fondly. “He’s…” Niall shakes his head with a small laugh. “He’s not a morning person, but you can say hi to him when we go get lunch. He’ll be awake for that.”

 

*

 

Lunch is a much bigger affair. The site is buzzing with a sea of people, crew members and artists alike all converging towards one big central tent, following the smell of warm stew. Louis isn’t quite sure how he managed to miss it this morning. He can’t believe he had to ask Niall for help in finding breakfast. Now that he’s walking towards the kitchen tent, it seems huge and obvious, and Louis can only blame his lack of sleep for the confusion.

“Zee!” Niall calls suddenly from Louis’ left, waving at someone across the chatty crowd.

Louis automatically rises on the tip of his toes to try and identify whom Niall has been calling though he has a guess.

“If it isn’t the lover,” Zayn teases when he finally reaches them, putting a hand on the back of Niall’s neck and smiling at them both. “Hey,” he says, turning sideways to look at Niall.

He looks more relaxed than before, casually dressed and stripped away from the theatrics the show requires.

“Please don’t call me that,” Louis says with an eye roll before Niall can reply to the greeting.

Zayn looks amused at the request but still nods in agreement. “You came back,” he says, stating the obvious.

“I did.”

“And to work _here_?” he adds pointedly, with an unconvinced expression on his face.

“Yes,” Louis says slowly, giving Niall what he hopes is a subtle panicked look.

“That’s interesting,” Zayn continues, eyeing Louis’ rumpled outfit and it was dark in his tent but Louis doubts it was dark enough to hide the posh clothes.

“Not really,” he argues with a shrug. He’s casual. This is fine. “It’s not that interesting,” he adds a bit too firmly.

Zayn opens his mouth, probably to argue back, but is interrupted by the sound of Niall’s laughter.

“Don’t worry Louis,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper. “Zayn won’t say anything about you being a posh lad. You can trust him, I promise. We can all respect you wanting to have a different experience.”

“I’m not-”

“Come on,” Niall interrupts loudly. “Let’s get some food, I’m starving.”

They’re about to enter the tent when a soft voice interrupts them. “Ah, my Arabian miracle!”

They all stop in their tracks. Niall grimaces at the sound and he gives Zayn a glance from the corner of his eyes before they all turn around.

The voice belongs to a sharply dressed man. He’s looking at Zayn expectantly, one leg crossed over the other and most of his body weight supported by an intricately sculpted cane. There’s a prominent eagle claw on the pommel, predatory and menacing. He’s dressed all in black with the exception of the delicate golden leaves embroidered on his waistcoat. He looks expensive, more expensive than anyone Louis has seen on the site so far which can only mean one thing.

“Mr. Cowell,” Zayn greets with a tight smile.

Simon Cowell stands tall with a smile on his face that Louis can’t help but think of as sinister.

“How are we today Mr. Malik?” Simon asks sweetly.

“Very well, Mr. Cowell,” Zayn says, blinking slowly. He looks tense, on the defensive, like he’s afraid of what his boss has to say.

“I’m always good when you’re selling for me Zayn,” Simon chuckles and he looks perfectly pleasant, smiling widely at his employee, yet Louis can’t help but sense the threat underneath.

Louis turns towards Niall, a puzzled expression on his face, and he only receives a headshake and a mouthed “later” in reply.

Zayn nods in response, his expression a bit more serious now.

“You gotta push those Arabic cures,” Mr. Cowell continues, fingers fondling the eagle’s claw.

“Of course,” Zayn replies apprehensively, the fake smile still firmly in place.

“It’s a big source of income,” he says casually. “I feel it when you’re not doing as well. Like this week.”

Zayn sighs slowly. “I’ll work on it,” he promises, not meeting Simon’s eyes.

“Yes, you will,” Cowell declares before turning his head towards the others. “Niall,” he acknowledges pleasantly. His gaze then finds Louis’.  “You’re the new night janitor?”

“Yes, Sir. Louis, Louis Tomlinson.”

Mr. Cowell raises his eyebrow in response. “Don’t forget to do better,” he reminds Zayn before leaving.

“What a piece of work,” Louis says with a laugh when he’s finally out of sight.

“Quite an understatement,” Zayn mumbles before entering the tent by himself.

Louis is taken aback for a second before he turns to Niall. “Is he alright? What did Cowell mean by _Arabic cures_?” he asks, mimicking quotation marks with his fingers.

Niall looks sad for a second. “He’s fine… They’re fake knickknacks Simon wants him to sell to help solve people’s problems, exotic cures or some bullshit. Tell people they have an issue and then sell just the right foreign and mysterious thing to solve it?” Niall says expectantly. “You know?

Louis nods. "Oh." 

“He hates it,” Niall continues with a shrug. “The lying and everything. Not to mention he's Asian, not Arab. Not that Simon gives a shit." 

“Why does he work here then?” Louis asks, forgetting for a second that it might be rude.

Niall laughs and Louis could almost swear it’s bitter. “I guess that’s not something someone like you could understand, but sometimes people don’t have a choice. Zayn was born here. His mum used to work for Simon. This is all he’s known. This is all he thinks he knows how to do.”

“Oh,” Louis says, feeling a bit guilty.

Niall is right. It’s not really something he can understand. He’s had opportunities and options, an education in some of the best schools in the country and an open-minded and kind enough mother to let him do as he pleases despite disapproval. His mere presence here is a reflection of that, working at a job he doesn’t need but just because he felt like it. No wonder Niall was shocked to see him. Being unable to fully understand doesn’t mean he can’t empathise.

“What about you?” he asks, bumping their shoulders together.

“Well, I was born in Ireland, not in some weird freak-show. Although some could argue that I am a freak,” Niall says jokingly. He shakes his head. “Seriously, though, it’s a lot more fun than some of the other jobs I’ve had, let’s leave it at that.”

“But-”

“Come on, I’m still starving and we’ve left Zayn to brood long enough,” Niall interrupts, grabbing Louis by the arm and dragging him forward into the tent.

“I thought you said Simon didn’t mingle,” Louis says as they join the queue.

Niall snorts. “That wasn’t mingling. That was him scolding Zayn.”

 

*

 

His third night on the job comes around and Louis really is starting to feel like he’s got the hang of it. He’s able to get through the whole site under three hours and he’s hoping to get to two and a half in the next few weeks. He’s improving at a quick pace and if he weren’t afraid of being scolded for even working somewhere like this he would write a letter to his mother to tell her about all the progress he’s making. He would add a postscript demanding the advice of their butler too because the glass of Swimmy’s tank is still giving him trouble and he truly doesn’t understand what more he is supposed to do to make it polished and clear. Nobody on the show has complained so far, luckily, but Louis knows that there must be a better way for this. Mr. Moore would know. Louis has always suspected Mr. Moore of knowing everything.

He’s mentally going through ideas to improve his abilities when he hears a high voice coming from inside Swimmy’s tent, the words fast and half incoherent. He frowns, curious, and takes a small peak, silently opening the flap so as to not disturb whoever is inside. The sight he’s met with makes his heart clench painfully in his chest.

It’s little Lux, out of costume and makeup, and she’s climbed on the table somehow, her hands pressed against the glass as she talks to Swimmy, and Louis can’t even find the audacity to be mad at the added finger traces. She’s babbling about her day, something about her mother, and it’s absolutely endearing; the way she goes on and on.

But it’s not the adorable prattle that has Louis’ heart rate speeding up and his mouth opening in silent shock. No, it’s the way Swimmy is responding. Because he is, more so than Louis has ever seen before. For once, he’s not on his back, absent eyes fixed on the top of his cage. For once he doesn’t look exhausted or sad.

He’s looking at Lux with the hint of a smile on his face, one of his large hands pressed against his side of the glass, pressed against hers in a way, and it would engulf Lux’s little fingers were they not separated like this. He seems completely hypnotised by her and Louis could almost swear that he’s actually listening, that he can understand her… the rational part of his mind reminds him it’s quite impossible, but Louis’ heart and instincts are chanting something else.

“And then Zayn gave me a doll he made himself and she wears blue like you,” Lux continues to tell and Louis’ heart misses a beat when he sees Swimmy smiling, a proper smile that makes his cheeks dimple beautifully.

Louis almost thought he couldn’t, after so many hours of seeing him so stoic, his face devoid of any emotion except resignation. Seeing him smile now is like that very first moment of the day, when the curtains of his bedroom back in the Estate are opened widely by one of the maids, letting the sunlight in the room for the first time in what feels like forever, bathing the entire place in a gentle glow. It’s peaceful, like the last traces of sleep still making his limbs lazy as he snuggles back into bed with the warmth of the sun caressing his face.

Louis sighs as his eyes follow the curve of Swimmy’s dimples from afar.

Yes, it’s quite like that.

 

*

 

Back in his caravan, Louis carefully reaches under his mattress to grab the notebook that has now become his greatest companion. He sits on the bed, opening the book on his thigh and quickly going through it to find the next blank page. He scribbles _Likes children??_ inside and he doesn’t even feel terrible about adding one more question rather than an answer. For the first time, Louis feels like he’s glimpsed something more.

He sighs, staring at the question marks covering the page, rows and rows of unanswered questions, before shaking his head with a yawn. He hides the book again, wrapping it using one of his shirts and sliding it under his mattress before letting himself fall on the bed heavily. He’s asleep within seconds.

 

*

 

The next night, a groaning man comes in carrying a huge smelly bucket interrupting Louis while he’s sweeping through Swimmy’s tent.

“Hey,” Louis says, nodding towards the man who simply sneers in response, getting closer to the table.

He drops his bucket loudly on top of the tank and Louis could almost swear he sees Swimmy jumping slightly at the noise from the corner of his eyes. He turns to take a closer look, but the merman’s face is closed off again, as expressionless as before, and Louis figures he must have imagined it.

Louis grimaces as he watches the bulky man dropping huge chunks of what he thinks might be a mixture of old fish and octopus pieces through the hole on the top of the tank. There are some unidentified items in the mix too, large pieces of a type of meat Louis has never seen before and none of it looks particularly appetizing. Swimmy seems to think the same. He lets the pieces fall into the bottom of the tank without a care, some of them even falling on his chest. He doesn’t reach for the food nor does he respond to the man’s presence. He just doesn’t do anything, doesn’t move or blink. It’s quite unsettling for Louis to witness, now that he knows it’s most likely an act.

“That doesn’t look very good,” Louis says sympathetically into the hole in the tank as the man checks the lid and the lock to make sure it’s properly closed, the chains clinking loudly as he does so.

“It’s pointless, you know,” he huffs, picking up his fish bucket. “It doesn’t talk,” he adds, giving a sneering look towards the creature.

“To you maybe,” Louis whispers, taking a step closer to the tank, trying to see a hint of the boy he saw reacting so strongly to Lux only the night before.

He’s nowhere to be found. Swimmy has gone completely poker-faced again and Louis could maybe believe him to be nothing more than a monster without feelings if it weren’t for the scene he has witnessed.

“Even if it did,” the man interrupts Louis’ train of thoughts. “It’s not like it can hear you from under there,” he says banging the bucket against the top of the tank loudly and this time Louis is sure he can see Swimmy flinching.  “Best to just ignore the thing. God knows it ignores us,” the man adds angrily before spitting loudly on the tank, his saliva sliding slowly down the glass, adding to Louis’ workload for the night.

“What a jerk,” Louis mumbles as he grabs his rag and bucket to get to work. “I wouldn’t eat any of his crap either Swimmy,” he confesses to the boy, a small part of him hoping that he can hear, that he can understand somehow.

After all, stranger things have happened.

 

*

 

“Who’s that?” Louis asks Zayn and Niall during lunch two days later, pointing to the man who hired him with his fork.

He’s seen him around before, has seen him mingling every day, but he still hasn’t been able to pinpoint what his job is supposed to be yet. He had enough power to hire Louis yet all he seems to do is walk around and smile at various members of the team.

Zayn and Niall share a look at the question.

“That’s Ben,” Zayn replies around a mouthful. “Ben Winston, he’s Mr. Cowell’s associate.”

“What does he do around here?” Louis asks with a suspicious look on his face.

“What doesn’t he do?” Niall says, making a funny face and Zayn giggles in response.

Louis frowns at the pair of them. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, feeling a bit left out.

“You know,” Niall shrugs. “He takes care of things, makes sure everything runs smoothly. He’s the one that explodes when it doesn’t.”

“Explodes?” Louis repeats.

Zayn licks his bottom lip and sneaks a glance towards Winston before replying. “Just don’t mess with him and you won’t have to experience it.”

 

*

 

The night of the anniversary of his first week at the show, Louis hears something abnormal coming from Swimmy’s tent. He frowns as he approaches, puzzled by the unusual noises coming from the inside. This area is usually empty this late after the show, most of the performers hurrying back inside of their personal caravan for a good night of rest as soon as their adoring public has left the premise. He’s seen Lux hanging around of course, but she’s never this loud, her adorable chatter nothing like the loud male voices and the banging sounds he can hear coming from the tent right now.

It sounds nothing like the idiot who comes in at various hours of the day to try and feed the merman either and Louis tightens his grip on his broom, apprehension filling his belly as he reaches the tent. He pushes the flap out of the way and walks determinately inside, taking in the sight.

There are three robust men in the room, two of them kneeling by the tank and it’s on the floor now, has been emptied during the night somehow without Louis noticing. They’re holding big brushes in their hands and Louis’ seen them around before, knows them as Cowell’s right-hand men. The third one Louis recognises as Ben is standing over the creature, watching it thrash around silently on the floor, seemingly gasping for air and looking absolutely terrified.


	5. Chapter Four

“What the hell is going on here?” Louis calls out angrily, with more authority than he possesses in here. He can’t take his eyes off the beautiful sea-man, the way he’s trembling on the ground, breath laboured, eyes wide and panicky, his tail tapping against the mud in a desperate attempt to move away from the tall, menacing figure standing over him.

Mr. Winston turns around slowly and Louis’s blood boils when he sees the rope in his hand, sees where it’s wrapped around the poor creature’s wrists, digging painfully into the flesh.

“Don’t worry,” he says dismissively and Louis inhales sharply at the comment. He remembers Niall and Zayn telling him about Mr. Winston and how he’s not a man to be messed with. Unfortunately, Louis has never been good at doing what he’s been told to. “You don’t have to take care of this tent tonight,” Winston continues pretentiously. “We have to clean its tank once a week so we take care of the rest too.”

“You can’t leave him like this,” Louis replies, outraged, taking two steps forward. “You,” he calls, pointing at one of the men cleaning the tank. “Go get me the biggest bucket you can find and fill it with water!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. Winston says angrily.

“Now!” Louis yells at the confused brown-eyed boy, watching him nod nervously and dropping his brush inside the tank before trailing off quickly.

“I said, what do you think you’re doing?!” Winston repeats even more forcefully.

Winston is taller than Louis, bulkier too, but Louis is filled with too much outrage and anger to even care about that.

“Can’t you see being outside the water so long terrifies him?” Louis yells accusingly, reaching for the rope and taking it out of Ben’s big hands, pushing him out of the way in the process.

For a second, Louis thinks he’s going to get hit for his insolence but the man just gives him the dirtiest look he’s ever seen before turning around and exiting the tent angrily with his accomplice.

He’ll be back, probably, but Louis doesn’t have the time to care about that for now.

“Good riddance,” he mumbles as he kneels next to the shaking miracle.

His movement is a bit too abrupt though and the merman whines in distress, trying to slide himself backwards and get away from Louis. His eyes are even wider than before and they’re green, striking and beautiful. Louis can hardly believe he’s never noticed them after days of working on the show. They’ve never looked at each other like this before though, frankly and face to face. Swimmy has never looked at him straight in the eyes, not once, not even for a second in all the nights he spent polishing the glass of his tank and Louis is almost glad because now…. now he can see everything. Every fleck of gold and every hint of fear, all dabbed into piercing, intense green; it’s a look Louis knows he’ll never forget for as long as he lives.

He stops moving, only one of his knees on the ground and his hand still holding the rope frozen in his movement towards the trembling creature. Louis drops the rope as soon as he realises it’s still in his grasp, bringing his hand back towards himself, raising the other slowly, both palms up in the least threatening manner he can manage.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers sadly. “Swimmy, I’m so sorry.” He has no idea if he can even be understood, no idea if this remarkable being speaks any language let alone his own, but he has to try. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he adds fiercely and the boy jumps back, frowns distrustfully at the tone.

Louis sighs and closes his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down. He’s angry, fury boiling in his belly at the thought of those uncaring men and the way they’ve been treating a living, breathing creature, but he has to remain calm if he stands any chance of being trusted.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” he says softly. “I just want to help you,” he pleads and it’s like something shifts inside the creature’s eyes, weariness slowly starting to fade away into a more neutral gaze.

Louis takes it as an affirmative sign to continue.

“Can I?” he asks, pointing towards the rope and then his own wrists, hoping that he’s somehow making his intentions clear.

He waits for the merman to react, biting at his lower lips nervously when it’s not instantaneous.

“It looks like it hurts,” he adds in a gentle voice.

The boy cocks his head to the side pensively; long brown hair brushing against his collarbones and it has started to dry into loose curls, framing his face beautifully despite its messy and tangled appearance. Louis raises an inquisitive eyebrow in response and the boy gulps visibly before offering his wrists slowly.

Louis can’t help but smile at the sight, letting out a relieved sigh as he finally drops to both knees, not caring about the mud seeping through his trousers. They’re old anyway, part of his _adventure wardrobe_ that consists only of the oldest, most comfortable pieces that he would feel at ease in while running, climbing and/or crawling if need be, none of that stifling Oxford nonsense.

Louis reaches for his wrists and startles a little at how cold the sea creature's skin is before slowly untangling the tight knot restraining him.

“There,” Louis whispers with a small smile. “Better, right?” he asks, rubbing a thumb against the top of the boy’s hand, trying to soothe him and stop him from shaking.

He doesn’t reply, not a sound or a peep, just lowers his head submissively and wraps his arms protectively around himself, his tail curling into his body. There’s a startling noise that makes him jump slightly and curl even further into himself as the tent’s flap is pushed away and the brown-eyed man comes back, carrying a metal bucket that clinks with each of his movement.

Louis would be impressed by the display of strength but there’s no time to waste. Swimmy is uncomfortable, has probably been uncomfortable ever since setting foot - metaphorically speaking - into _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ , and while Louis can’t fix everything that’s wrong in the world, he can help reduce his fear and panic as best as he can at this moment.

“Here,” the earnest young man says as he arrives, putting the bucket in the center of the tent, a little to the left of the half-cleaned tank. “It’ll be a tight fit, but I think we can manage.”

Louis stares at the bucket, then back at the boy. It looks tiny and horrible but for the moment, it will have to do.

“Okay,” Louis mumbles to himself. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to grab it?” The man asks, taking two steps towards the curled up creature.

“No!” Louis snaps back, getting to his feet quickly and placing himself between them, arms stretched out protectively.

The man looks wounded for a second. “Right.”

Louis sighs. “What’s your name?”

“Liam,” the young man says. “Liam Payne.”

“I’m Louis,” Louis replies, holding out a friendly hand for Liam to shake. “Don’t take this personally but I don’t think you’re associated with very pleasant memories for him so I’d like it if you stayed back. Please.”

Liam nods, his cheeks reddening and looking embarrassed. “That’s fair.”

Louis nods back and takes a deep breath before turning back around.

“Hey,” he says, getting back down to the merman’s level and smiles a little when he sees him raise his head slightly at the sound of Louis’ voice. “We’re gonna get you back in the water, all right?”

The boy, of course, doesn’t reply.

Louis slowly approaches him to wrap an arm around his back and the other under his tail. It’s smooth, surprisingly soft to the touch and somehow it looks even prettier up close. Louis mentally takes note of the texture and the feeling of it, unable to fully abandon his curious nature despite the situation. He takes the few steps towards the bucket easily, surprised by the lightness of the merman. He had noticed him not really eating, had noticed the way his ribs stick out a little, but he wasn’t expecting to be able to carry him so easily. He frowns, worried, and slowly deposits him into the bucket, taking three steps back once it’s done, trying to give the creature a bit of privacy and space.

The boy’s body relaxes as soon as it hits the water, his face smoothing into a relieved expression as he sits. He can’t quite fit entirely into the bucket, the fins at the bottom of his tail still touches the ground, but he looks much more comfortable than before now that he’s back into his element. His breathing starts to slow down, no longer laboured and anxious, and he’s closed his eyes, hands pressed together against his chest in a vague imitation of prayer. For a second, Louis wonders what an impossible creature like him might believe in, what deity the supernatural like him worships but he’s quickly distracted from his train of thoughts by the red skin of the boy’s wrists.

Louis hums disapprovingly at the sight and the boy’s eyelashes flutter open in response, revealing a curious, yet still cautious gaze.

“Your wrists,” Louis explains awkwardly, rubbing at his own. “I could-” he starts taking a step away from Liam and closer to the bucket.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Liam interrupts, grabbing his arm a hint too tight to stop him from getting any closer. “He hasn’t been aggressive with you so far but…” he trails off awkwardly. “Who knows how he’ll react, he’s a wild animal.”

Louis sighs, turning halfway to look straight into Liam’s earnest eyes. He means well, Louis can tell. It makes it hard to hate him blindly for the torture he’s let this poor creature suffer.

“You’re right,” Louis agrees with a gulp because he is out of his depth. All those years of dreaming, all those hours spent studying and reading, they could never have prepared him for this. He only has his guts left to trust. “We don’t know. We can’t know for sure. This is completely uncharted territory, but in all the days I’ve been here, all the nights I spent watching him, I’ve never seen one drop of aggression in his body. And Lord knows he would have good reasons to be angry and violent considering his predicament.”

“He bit Mr. Cowell in the thigh,” Liam whispers like he’s not supposed to tell.

That surprises Louis a little.

“He wasn’t limping before that thing came here,” Liam continues sheepishly. “Now they say the infection is down to the middle of his calf. They might need to cut off the leg. Or, at least, that’s what the rumours say.”

Louis gulps and turns his head slightly to look back at Swimmy and he’s surprised to find him staring right back at him, straight in the eyes, his gaze deep and troubled.

“Well,” Louis starts a bit absently, eyes still locked on the creature. “If it were the man who imprisoned _me_ I wouldn’t be very kind towards him either,” he finishes, looking back at Liam.

He raises a pointed eyebrow after a few seconds and Liam has the decency to look ashamed, dropping his eyes to the mud on their shoes, his cheeks reddening. “You’re right. I’ll finish washing his tank and I’ll fill it back up as quickly as possible,” Liam says quietly after a few seconds of silence.

“Thanks, Liam,” Louis whispers, his attention already back on the boy.

He walks back to him and kneels next to the bucket determinately. “I’m gonna wash your wrist and bandage them,” he says quickly. “I know you might not be able to understand what I’m saying but I promise I’m not trying to hurt you.”

It might be a foolish misconception, but Louis is truly hoping that, if anything, at least, his good intentions are being understood, that his sincerity is shining through his tone if nothing else is.

"Might?" Liam repeats confusedly from the other side of the tent. "I think it's pretty clear he doesn't."

"Why's that?" Louis replies, slowly starting to reach for the boy's wrists.

"Well, we'd know if he did," Liam replies like it's obvious. He's started cleaning the tank again and the noise of the brush against the glass is making Swimmy a bit jumpy.

"Hey, s'okay, we’ve got to put some cold on this burn," Louis says soothingly, inviting him to put both of his hands in the water. "There we go," he smiles when both of his wrists are under. "Not so hard isn't it? It’s better, right?"

The creature gulps and diverts his eyes, almost like he's shy and for the first time, Louis thinks Swimmy isn't majestic or grandiose. He's bloody cute.

"We don't know anything about him, Liam. Where he comes from... What he is.... Why should we make assumptions when we have no knowledge or facts," Louis finally replies conversationally while gently taking the boy's wrists out of the cold water to inspect the wounds. The skin is red, inflamed, and there are some areas where the rope has broken the skin but at least, he's stopped bleeding. "I'm going to bandage you up now, just to make sure you don't accidentally rub the wound, alright Swimmy?"

"Why do you call him that?" Liam asks, seemingly choosing to ignore Louis' previous argument.

"It's just a nickname," Louis admits with a chuckle. He starts tearing at the bottom of his white shirt, making small pieces of cloth to make him a bandage. "Niall calls him like that."

"Oh. We just call him the beast," Liam says quietly.

"That's not very nice."

"No, I guess not," Liam says reflectively.

Louis is finally ready to play nurse when he hears the sounds of heavy footsteps outside the tent. He feels Swimmy tensing up next to him and he turns bulging worried eyes towards Liam.

The tent's flap opens up to reveal not only Mr. Winston, like Louis feared but Mr. Cowell himself.

He looks imposing, even with a cane, his polished impeccable suit seemingly the only clean thing on the show's site. He's wearing glasses and an angry stern look on his face, his hand gripping the eagle claw at the top of his cane.

Louis turns his back to them to face the bucket again and give Swimmy a reassuring look and a nod before getting back to his feet and facing the two angry owners of _Mr. Cowell's Spectacular Extravaganza!_.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Mr. Cowell asks with a disgusted, dismissive look on his face. He's sneering at Louis, looking at him like he's nothing but dirt stuck underneath his too posh shoes.

Louis knows he's going to have to fight for this, for his job, for his opinion. It’s alright though, he’s always been a fighter.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mr. Cowell continues with even more disgust if that's even possible.

"I'm tending to him," Louis replies firmly, folding his arms across his chest. He knows he doesn't look his best, with rags for clothes, a torn up shirt and his oldest trousers. It will have to do for standing up to this man, though. Because he’s not backing down. What they’re doing to this poor creature is appalling and Louis is not leaving this place until it’s stopped.

"And who said you could do that?" Mr. Winston asks pointedly, his handsome face twisted into an ugly grimace of anger.

"Nobody,” Louis says slowly, arrogantly. “I made that decision myself,” he adds with a raise of an eyebrow.

It doesn't please Simon Cowell to be talked back to like this, Louis can tell from the tremor that goes over his face and the deep breath he takes before speaking again.  

"How interesting for a night janitor like you, the lowest person in here, to try and pull a stunt like this."

Louis huffs angrily and shakes his head. "I'm not pulling a stunt. He was injured and being intimidated! It's not right. Now you can fire me or do whatever you want to me, but not until I've finished what I've started."

"Finish what you've started?" Simon asks, surprised.

"Yes, I'm going to finish tending to his wounds and then we can talk."

“Talk?” Winston scoffs. “Why would we want to talk to you when we can easily have you removed from our property?” He laughs, a slow mocking derisory thing that drags on with the sole purpose of making Louis uncomfortable and to intimidate him.

 _Nice try arsehole_ , Louis thinks firmly as he watches Ben perform his big scary man act.

“Because I think what I have to say would be of value to you,” Louis replies cockily once Mr. Winston is done. He’s not quite sure where he’s going with this, but he knows he has to think of something quick because he can’t get fired, not now that he knows what’s going on here, not now that he’s seen the pure terror in those striking green eyes.

It might be stupid. It might be irrational. But Louis feels responsible now. If he leaves, whatever happens next to this lost soul will be his fault because he will have given up. And if there’s one thing Louis isn’t, it’s a quitter.

He’s been told time and time again to stop looking for the impossible, ever since he was a small child. His mother, his nannies, his sisters, his teachers…. they’ve all told him to give up at some point. They’ve all told him to start focusing on something serious, a true career. And once he got one, a teaching career nonetheless, everyone started telling him to give more attention to it, more focus, to stop dedicating his life to something so irrelevant, to stop wasting away for a dream, for a fantasy that might never come true. They’ve all told him multiple time to finally start giving heart and soul to his teaching, something concrete and true that could bring him prestige and a good reputation.

All very sound and rational advice but Louis never gave up. He never gave up on himself and today he’s not going to give up on this boy from the sea.

Cowell scoffs at his reply. “Of value? Really?”

“Yes,” Louis insists through gritted teeth, mentally going over what recommendations he could make and arguments he could use to make them see him as indispensable.

“I highly doubt that.”

“Then I guess you should throw me out,” Louis says like it doesn’t bother him, hoping they won’t call his bluff. “Then again you’ll never know unless you give me a second to talk to you.”

“Alright then, let’s talk janitor boy,” Simon agrees reluctantly. “Not here,” he adds, giving Swimmy a disgusted look. “I’ve stared at it long enough.”

Louis inhales sharply at the comment and for the first time since he’s seen the beautiful creature, he really hopes for the complete opposite of what he’s been mentally wishing for, that Swimmy can understand neither the words nor the tone that is being spoken.

“Come on,” Ben says, pointing towards the opening of the tent and Louis automatically shakes his head in refusal.

"No."

Mr. Cowell sighs loudly. "You're starting to irritate me."

"I said I was tending to his wounds first."

"Fine, if you want to waste your time, go for it. I'll be in my caravan, Liam here can show you the way?" he asks the boy frozen near the tank.

He nods quickly. "Yeah, of course, Sir. I can do that."

"That's sorted then. Don't take too long," he warns before exiting. "I'm not a patient man. Oh and be careful, it bites."

"What a bloody arsehole," Louis says angrily once both Mr. Winston and Mr. Cowell have exited the tent. "Sorry," he adds towards Liam. "I know he's your boss, you probably respect him a little."

"He's your boss too," Liam replies. "And it's okay. He's not the kindest man. I know that more than anyone."

Louis chuckles and passes a nervous hand through his hair. "That's one way of putting it," he replies before turning back towards the reason that he's here at all.

"Hey you," he tells the young man, smiling widely, eyes crinkling when he sees the way he starts relaxing again now that Simon has left. "Sorry about the old grump," he whispers conspiratorially, pointing behind himself at the flap with his thumb. "He really is a piece of work," he continues, taking a few steps forward and kneeling in front of the bucket, putting both of his elbow on the rim and putting his head on his hand, his face so close to the creature that he can feel his breath against the skin of his face.

"I... " Liam starts, clearly uncomfortable with the proximity.

"It's alright Liam," Louis says reassuringly. "I'm just making a new friend." He keeps his face relaxed and his body casual despite his heartbeat accelerating with every second that passes. He trusts that Swimmy wouldn't hurt him. He's not a violent person and even he wanted to punch Simon Cowell in the face, he can't blame Swimmy for biting him. Hell, he'd do it himself if his teeth were sharper and he wasn’t disgusted by the thought of touching him. After all, it's much more effective than a punch! But still, despite this strange inexplicable blind faith, Louis can't help but feel aware of the fact that this could turn around any second, that he doesn't truly know this creature at all, that he's still terrified and has been locked up for so long... So many things that are out of his control and that could go wrong.

They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds before Louis tilts his head slightly to the left. He lets out a small surprised laugh when he notices the boy mirroring his movement. He tilts his head to the other side, just to test it, and of course, the creature follows softly, wide intelligent looking eyes slowly blinking at Louis like they’re trying to tell him a million things at once.

Louis smiles softly, elbow sliding from the edge of the bucket, his fingers gripping the side instead. “Let’s bandage you up, yeah?” he asks, hesitantly reaching Swimmy’s forearm and poking it.

Swimmy doesn’t jump or act nervous. He just stares at where Louis’ fingers made contact with his skin with a very serious look on his face like he’s considering his options, before holding out both of his wrists again.

Louis grabs the rags he ripped from his shirt from where he put them in his trouser pockets and uses one to dry off Swimmy’s wrists. They look completely normal, apart from the rope burn, and isn’t it extraordinary, Louis can’t help but think. He’s seemingly completely human apart from the gills on the side of his chest, completely human from the waist up, and even though Louis has heard of mermaids and mermen before, it’s still pretty shocking to be in such close contact with a real one. No matter how many times he sees him, it still somehow feels like the first and Louis still has that childlike wonder of a new discovery. He’s always believed, yet every day he still feels like he’s going to be startled awake suddenly by the noises of excited students in the corridor soon, that he’ll wake up with a crick in his neck from sleeping in his office again and disappointment in his heart from dreaming about all of his wishes coming true and realising it hasn’t happened. He’s here though and more importantly, the sea-boy is here, real, tangible, and Louis is touching him reverently, carefully wrapping his wounds and tying bandages.

“There we go,” he says happily when he’s done, keeping his voice as soft as possible. “All sorted now.” Louis scrunches his nose with fondness as he says it, unable to control his facial movement.

Swimmy repeats the movement, scrunching his long nose back at Louis, and if he didn’t know better Louis would say he’s being teased, but it seems quite unlikely.

“I think he likes you,” Liam says from behind him and Louis startles at the comment.

For a second there he’d forgotten he was being watched.

He blushes and shrugs in response. “Maybe,” he says doubtfully. It’s hard to say in those circumstances. Who can tell what’s inside this strange and beautiful creature’s mind? Who could pretend to guess?

“Are you done?” Louis asks Liam, pointing at the brush he's still holding.

Liam nods in response. “Yeah, I’m going to fill it back with water after I’ve shown you to Simon’s caravan.”

“I know where it is,” Louis replies with a dismissive hand gesture. It’s the biggest on the site, with a stern looking sign outside that reads _Do Not Disturb._ Available is certainly not the word Louis would use to describe the owner of the show, that’s for sure.

He turns towards Swimmy who’s looking at him nervously, biting absentmindedly at his bottom lip.  

“Liam is gonna get you back in the water soon Swimmy, don’t worry,” Louis says reassuringly before taking a big breath and getting up to leave the tent.

 

*

 

Louis knows he should probably announce himself, should probably knock and be polite, but he’s filled with too much shaky anger for that. Instead, he pushes the door open and walks in with a determined look on his face.

“It can’t go on like this!” he declares, all pointy fingers and puffed chest.

Winston snorts and looks down at him before taking a drag off his cigarette.

“What?” Simon sneers. “It’s inhumane?” he asks mockingly. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s not human. It’s a monster. And I’m keeping it contained to protect my artists and my workers. Which miraculously still includes you. So I’d pick up my broom, get back to work and I’d forget about all this nonsense if I were you, Louis.”

“You’re keeping him contained to make a maximum profit,” Louis replies through gritted teeth. He knows this man. They might have only met a few days ago but Louis knows what’s in his heart. Or more specifically what isn’t. “But you’re so blindsided by the idea that you can’t even see you’re killing him. You tell me Mr. Cowell, who’s going to want to come and see a miserable, dying creature? Who’s still going to come to the show after you’ve lost him?”

“You are out of line!” Mr. Winston interrupts angrily before turning to his partner. “Let me throw him out of here, Sir.”

“How long do you think it can stay like this? How long can he refuse to eat until it’s been too long and he starts fading away? Do you want to lose your biggest attraction? You want a steady profit, no? You want sustainability?”

“Big words coming from a janitor,” Mr. Winston grumbles angrily.

“You know I’m right,” Louis continues, ignoring the snide remark and keeping his eyes fixed on Simon. “Where are you going to be in six months? A year? Do you want to be touring your successful show with a star attraction in all the biggest European cities or do you want to go back to the slums, doing tricks for small coastal towns like before?”

Louis gulps, fearing he’s revealed too much, fearing that they’ll think it’s suspicious that he knows so much about the show, but Simon just looks pensive.

“He is out of line,” he says slowly. “But he’s right.”

Simon gets a short brooding look on his face before looking at Louis up and down slowly like he’s mentally measuring him up and Louis can’t help his heart skipping a beat nervously at the thought. He doesn’t have a particularly high opinion of Mr. Cowell, therefore, the opinion he has of Louis in return doesn’t, ultimately, matter to him. Still, he wants to be taken seriously, wants his plan to work. More importantly, he wants the situation to improve for the frightened creature he’s now grown attached to somehow.

He feels protective. He can’t help it. He’s not quite certain if it was the vulnerability he glimpsed on the boy’s face after days of carefully crafted indifference or the beautiful shade of green he’s discovered in his eyes that have made something shift inside of Louis’ gut, but it feels like more than a scientific discovery now. He’s involved. He feels responsible. And since Simon is the man in control, Louis does want him to evaluate him favourably.

“Well,” Simon finally says after a painfully long beat. “What did you have in mind?”

Mr. Winston’s eyes widen dramatically and he would look comical if the situation wasn’t so tense.

“He needs a bigger enclosure,” Louis replies quickly. It’s the most urgent item on his list.

Simon scoffs at the thought.

“He does,” Louis insists.

“It’s easier to show it in the tank,” Winston comments. “It’s accessible to people without putting them in danger.”

“Fine,” Louis agrees angrily. “But you can’t leave him in it all the time like this; it’s not healthy for him. Besides, you provide a home for all of your performers when they’re off duty. Why should he be any different?”

“Because he’s not a performer,” Simon says stubbornly and Louis could yell. “It’s not even a _he._ ”

“Except that he _is_ and he’s miserable. Imagine a show where he smiles to people… Wave at them! Interact! A show where he does something beyond just existing…” Louis lists, thinking of the night he saw Swimmy with Lux.

That gets Simon’s attention. He looks surprised for a second before uncrossing his arms, his face now attentive, and a new glint in his eyes.

Louis almost has him.

He doesn’t like the idea of selling out Swimmy like this and making promises about his behaviour to men like Simon Cowell, but if it’s the only way for him to improve his living conditions… He’ll deal with the fallout and big expectations later.

“You don’t know that it would do that if we make it a big fancy pool,” Ben argues when he sees the greedy look on his associate’s face.

“You don’t know he wouldn’t,” Louis replies, eyes fixed on Simon.

“Can you make him do it?” Simon asks and Louis’ heart twists uncomfortably in his chest.

“Me?” he asks, a hint confused.

“It likes you,” Simon declares.

“I…” Louis shakes his head. “I don’t know about that.”

“I noticed,” he continues with a knowing look on his face. “I think you could be persuasive.”

Louis gulps before inhaling sharply. He’s probably going to regret this. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I think I can make him do it.”

Simon smirks in response, holding out his hand for Louis to shake.

“You’ll build him something, right?” Louis insists before taking Simon’s hand. “Something big enough for him to swim in?”

“Anything you think can help,” Simon promises, gripping Louis’ hand too tightly.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Winston mumbles from the corner of the room.

“Give him the key,” Simon barks at his associate before letting go of Louis’ hand.

“What?” Winston asks, sounding completely offended.

“Your key to the tank, give it to him,” Simon clarifies and this time, it sounds like an order. “He’s going to be in charge of the beast now.”

“But why-” Mr. Winston barely manages to get out before Simon gives him the dirtiest look Louis has ever seen on a man’s face. He’s glad not to be on the receiving end of it.

“Because I said so,” Cowell declares coldly. “You have a lot of duties here, it was foolish of us to think you could give this task enough time and attention. Besides, I think it could be in our favour to have the beast think its new caretaker is on its side, don’t you agree?”

Simon smiles at Louis as he says it, too sweet, too soft, and this is what having sold your soul to the devil must feel like, Louis reckons.


	6. Chapter Five

The next morning, Louis wakes up tired after a night of twisting and turning in his bed, plagued with doubts about accepting Simon’s offer. He’s chosen to play a dangerous game with those men and he has no idea where this path will lead him. They have clear expectations of him, expectations that make his stomach heavy with dread. What on Earth was he thinking? He never planned to be so closely involved and now that he is, he has absolutely no idea what to do. It made him so anxious the night before he couldn’t even go back to Swimmy’s tent to check up on him like he originally wanted. Instead, he stayed up for hours worrying and hoping the situation would seem easier in the light of morning. As he starts getting dressed for the day it becomes quite apparent that it is not the case.

He sighs loudly in front of his dresser, trying to find some inner courage to face his new responsibilities when he notices the tumult coming from outside. He frowns, grabbing his cap and putting it on as he walks out of his caravan. The sight he’s met with stops him in his track with a  small gasp.

The noises come from a group of bulky men Louis has never seen before. They’re hard at work, hammering and sawing away in a previously empty corner of the lot, just a hint beyond where all the caravans are standing close together. A curious crowd has gathered around them, artists and crew members alike trying to get a closer look and whispering to each other eagerly. He can’t quite tell what they’re building from here, but Louis has a vague idea.

It takes him a minute to scan the crowd, looking for the few allies he has here, and he starts moving again when he spots Niall and Zayn talking in periphery of the troupe. It’s too early to call them friends, they’re barely acquaintances at this point, but as the people who welcomed him with the most warmth and tolerated his incessant questions, they’re the only ones he wants to discuss this new development with.

They seem deep in conversation when he finally approaches them, standing close, Niall fiddling with the buttons of Zayn’s shirt.

“Hey,” Louis says casually when he reaches them. “Good morning.”

“Hi Louis,” Niall says with a smile, giving him a quick glance before going back to the task at hand. “There you go,” he whispers, giving Zayn’s belly a small pat.

“Got a bit of a wardrobe emergency this morning,” Zayn reveals, wearing an amused smile on his face. “Loose button,” he whispers. “Do you know what this is all about?” he asks after a beat, pointing to the workers.

“I thought you might be able to enlighten me,” Louis admits, fishing for information.

“Nobody knows,” Niall says. “And Ben won’t say anything. Lou asked him and apparently he yelled at her that it wasn’t any of her business,” he adds, raising both eyebrows.

“Don’t look so delighted,” Zayn scolds with a fond look on his face.

“Winston would never yell at Lou normally. He’s awful but he wouldn’t yell, not at her. And they’re… building whatever that is?!” Niall replies, pointing at the pile of wood excitedly. “Aren’t you curious to know what happened?”

“Of course, I am,” Zayn argues back just at the same time Louis whispers, “I think _I_ did.”

“What?” Zayn gasps, turning away from Niall to stare at Louis.

“What does that mean?” Niall adds loudly.

Louis winces for a second before putting his index to his lips and eyeing the crowd exasperatedly. The last thing he wants is to have to explain himself, and this new mystery, to the whole troupe.

“What does that mean?” Niall mouths exaggeratedly, making Zayn snort and shake his head.

“I think _I_ happened,” Louis repeats hesitantly. He doesn’t think. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure he’s the only reason any of this is happening. “I got into a fight with Cowell and Winston last night. They’re mistreating the merman,” Louis admits, feeling a hint of anger resurfacing at the thought of what he witnessed.

“What did you do?” Niall asks, enthralled.

“Yelled, mostly? I told them he needed a bigger enclosure to stay healthy,” Louis shrugs.

Zayn turns to look at the men working with his mouth open in shock. “And it worked?” he asks, looking back at Louis incredulously. There’s a newfound respect in his gaze, a hint of surprise and admiration.  

Louis blushes and shrugs again. Truth be told, it felt a bit too quick, too easy, and the knowledge of what he’s supposed to do for them in exchange of those modifications already weighs heavy on his shoulders.

“Wait,” Niall says suddenly. “Did you offer them money?”

“What? No.”

“Then how....” Niall trails off.

“I just used… logic. It makes more financial sense to take care of their investment. Who wants to see a dying, miserable creature?”

“Logic?” Zayn repeats. “You used logic?”

And I promised to make him do tricks for them too, Louis thinks but doesn’t say, feeling slightly nauseated.

He nods instead. “Crazy, huh?” he replies with a stilted laugh.

“More like… impossible,” Niall says mockingly. “They’re not usually easily persuaded. I don’t know how you managed it.”

“It might not be that,” Louis offers, although it sounds utterly unconvincing even to his own ears.  “Maybe they’re building something else. I mean… we fought about it a few hours ago, it’s unlikely they would have moved so fast.”

And that’s what’s puzzling him the most. He assumed he would have to fight tooth and nail for them to get started, he assumed he would have to harass them every day for things to progress. This? This is unexpected.

“Maybe,” Zayn replies doubtfully. “It’s nice though,” he adds after a few seconds, fiddling with his jacket pocket to find his cigarettes. He offers Louis one before elaborating. “What you did for that poor creature?” He nods, lighting it with a match that Niall has already taken out of his own pocket and has lit for him. “It’s not right, having him stuck in that thing all day long.”

“No,” Louis agrees darkly. “It’s really not.”

“Come on,” Niall says, grabbing Zayn’s hand and dragging him forward. “Let’s go get breakfast while everyone is stuck staring here.”

Louis is about to follow them when he spots Ben Winston standing in the shadow of a caravan, eyes fixed on the construction zone.

“I’ll join you guys later,” Louis says, patting Niall’s shoulder before jogging across the site to reach his newly found nemesis

“What’s all this?” he asks Ben, slightly out of breath, when he finally gets to him.

Winston gives him a dirty look and an eye roll before replying. “You asked,” he says through gritted teeth. “He’s giving,” he continues, nodding towards the men hard at work. “Should be ready in a few days. At least, that’s what Simon promised.”

“That’s great,” Louis replies, smiling despite himself. This is even better than what he was wishing for.

“Let’s just hope it’s worth it,” Ben whispers, arms crossed over his chest and denying Louis any eye contact.

Louis inhales sharply at the comment. “Yeah,” he says sadly, frowning at the construction site. He hopes so too.

 

*

 

Next, Louis decides to pick up his courage and go check on Swimmy instead of joining Niall and Zayn at the kitchen tent like he said he would. He was a coward the night before, filled with mixed feelings and doubts, but it can’t go on. He can’t keep feeling like this. Not when he has a new responsibility and such an important one at that. In fact, as he waves at the guard between the behind the scenes area and the show’s official site and walks towards his new protégée’s home, Louis decides to see this development as a blessing. He now has the opportunity to study Swimmy as much as he wants without being questioned or doubted for it. He can ask any noisy question that pops into his head without people thinking he’s up to no good. He might not get answers, especially not from Winston and Cowell, but they shouldn’t be too surprised to hear him asking them considering the new circumstances. A blessing, yes. This is what he’ll have to focus on. Otherwise, the reminder that he explicitly promised to “train” Swimmy _somehow_ will haunt him every hour of every day and he has too many things to focus on for that.

Swimmy is back in his tank when he gets in, just like Liam promised, although Louis isn't sure why a small part of him was expecting anything else. He looks bored again, expressionless and lying on his back as usual, and somehow that’s a relief because he doesn’t look tense and terrified anymore. His wrists are still bandaged and Louis figures he should probably take a look at them before trying to explain his good news.

He takes a few steps forward, waiting for the boy to notice him but it doesn’t happen. For a moment, Louis thinks he might be sleeping but as he gets even closer it becomes clear from the slight tapping of his finger against his tail that it isn’t the case. Louis waits a few seconds in front of the tank before knocking slightly on the glass, hoping it comes off as friendly rather than invasive. He’s not sure what the gesture means for the people of the sea, but he can’t imagine there are a lot of doors in the bottom of the ocean for Swimmy’s people to knock on. Then again, Louis’ knowledge is rather limited, which is why he’s here.

Swimmy doesn’t seem to find it aggressive. He jumps slightly at the noise, surprised to have company or to be acknowledged, maybe even both, and he turns his head, eyes widening at the sight of Louis. His gaze seems cautious, yet eager, and he clearly remembers Louis from the night before if the way his eyes drop to his wrists for a second is any indicator. Louis smiles at him and waves, fingers wiggling and he chuckles when Swimmy waves back timidly.

This is good, Louis thinks, trying to mostly convince himself. He fumbles through his trouser pockets to find the key Simon entrusted him with, keeping his eyes on Swimmy's face and nodding reassuringly at him. He opens the lock with trembling hands. He’s still nervous, despite the first steps of his new plan going rather well. Yet, the chains are still clicking with the slight tremors going through his hands and he’s so focused on trying to remain steady that he doesn’t even notice the way Swimmy is reacting.

It’s only when he’s getting ready to open the tank that he looks up and see the way Swimmy is flattening himself against the bottom, both hands pointlessly trying to grasp each side of the glass and it makes Louis’ heart lurch in his chest to see this automatic response. Swimmy is terrified. He’s been taken out of his element so often and so brutally that the mere sight of someone opening the tank is utterly distressing for him. How long has this been going on? How long has he been trapped? How long have they been torturing him like this? Louis can’t help but wonder as he drops both the lock and key and takes a step back, shaking his head. He just wanted to talk to the poor thing and reassure him that things are going to be better soon, not traumatise him even further.

They stare at each other in silence for a second before Louis slowly approaches the tank for the second time, keeping his eyes fixed on Swimmy’s and doing his best to appear reassuring. He opens the top of the tank slowly, shuddering at the way it creaks creepily. He takes a step back again, hoping to convey that he has no interest in taking Swimmy out.

Slowly, the merman’s body starts relaxing. His hands slip from the glass and he starts sitting up, his head emerging carefully out of the water. He’s staring at Louis with questions in his eyes and Louis… Louis suddenly has no idea what he came here to do.

“Hey,” he starts, waving clumsily. “So, I don’t know if you remember me? From last night? And all the nights before I guess…” he trails off, cheeks reddening. “um, anyway. I just wanted to come in and make sure you were okay? After what happened? And to tell you that everything is going to be fine. They’re building you a big pool,” Louis explains, making large circular gestures in an attempt to be understood. “So you can swim,” he adds pointlessly. He makes a small wave motion with his right hand and raises an eyebrow.

Swimmy remains stoic.

“And… um. You….” Louis sighs, dropping his arms and deflating completely. “You have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

Swimmy doesn’t say anything back.

Louis laughs: at the situation, but mostly at himself. This is beyond silly.

“It’s going to be fine,” he finally says with a smile. “That’s all I wanted to say. And I know you probably have no idea about what I’m saying but Ben isn’t going to touch you anymore. I promise.”

 

*

 

Louis is busy writing every single detail of the confrontation he’s had the night before in his journal, from his argument with Winston and Cowell to the way the merman had acted and reacted when he’s disturbed by a strong knock on his door. He jumps at the sound, accidentally drawing a long line of ink to the bottom of his page.

“Shit,” he mumbles, annoyed at himself. “Just a minute,” he adds loudly towards the door. He gets up from his bed and starts to wrap the notebook with the shirt again as quickly as possible.

It’s probably Niall or Zayn who have come to question why he never joined them for breakfast, or lunch, Louis thinks to himself as he slides the notebook under his mattress. Or maybe it’s one of his bosses wanting to clarify their expectations of him. Like he needs a reminder…

When he finally opens the door as casually as possible he’s surprised to find Liam on the other side.

“Hi,” Louis says slowly, feeling a bit blindsided. “Can I help you?” he asks after a few seconds of watching the other man shuffle silently.

“I’m Liam, we met yesterday?”

Louis smiles and nods slowly. “Yes, I remember.”

“I wanted… to apologise for what happened,” Liam says with big sad eyes.

It takes Louis by surprise to hear him say that and he stares without answering for a beat too long. He sighs when he sees the nerves increase on Liam’s face.

“You better come in,” Louis says, getting out of the way.

Louis doesn’t speak again until they’re both inside, awkwardly standing face to face. He crosses his arms.

“You wanted to apologise for… ?” he asks, feeling a bit confused. If anyone ought to apologise, it’s him, what with the way he yelled and ordered Liam around. He acted like Liam’s boss for Christ’s sake.

“You were right,” Liam replies. “What we were doing…” He looks sick for a second. “He was terrified and we didn’t care. It was wrong. I thought it didn’t matter ‘cause everyone said it was just a beast, just a monster. But the way he was with you… that wasn’t monstrous at all.”

“Oh.”

“So I’m sorry,” Liam finishes with a shrug.

“Why are you apologising to _me_? I’m not the one you wronged.”

“Well,” Liam chuckles awkwardly. “It’s not like he could understand it.”

“Maybe not the words, but how do we know he can’t understand sincerity? We don’t,” Louis answers his own question, feeling excitement blossom in his chest. “There’s so much left to learn, so many unanswered questions…”

Louis knows he’s probably saying too much, but he’s feeling the passion starting to erupt in his body and he can’t shut up.

“If we don’t try, we’ll never know. And me? I can’t stand not knowing,” Louis grins, wide and toothy. “So you should bring that apology to the person it belongs to _and_ if you’re feeling chatty you should tell me how he responds. ‘Cause I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

Liam frowns for a second before laughing. “You’re a bit crazy, aren’t you?”

Louis hums, pretending to think for a second. “That’s… a fair assessment.”

“I suppose you’re right. He does deserve an apology.”

“And he’s certainly not getting one from Mr. Cowell or Mr. Winston,” Louis adds pointedly. “That would require them feeling anything other than contempt.”

He thinks they would probably rather die in excruciatingly painful circumstances than admit their wrongdoings towards a creature they have no respect for.

Liam snorts at the comment then puts his hand over his mouth hastily.

“Don’t worry,” Louis whispers. “I won’t tell them you laughed if you don’t tell them I said that.”

“Deal,” Liam says with a smile that vanishes almost instantly. “Actually, there was another reason I came here. I talked to Mr. Cowell today. He told me he put you in charge of the b- ” Liam stops himself when he realises he was about to echo Simon’s crude language. “In charge of Swimmy? Wasn’t it?”

Louis grins. He’s getting quite fond of the name. “Yes, that’s the Niall approved nickname.”

“Yeah, so he told me you would be his primary caretaker and he asked me to give you a hand. Mostly when the pool is done, you know? Keep things clean and maybe help to move him every night. With the feedings, and the training….” Liam lists them nonchalantly. “Stuff like that? If that’s alright with you?” he asks, except it’s obvious to both of them that it’s not really a question.  

It’s their way of spying on him.

Of course, Louis never had any illusion that he would be able to do whatever he wants, but truth be told he wasn’t expecting them to order one of their right-hand men to follow him around. It’s just not very subtle and it makes balancing his research and his newly appointed duty while respecting his own integrity more complicated than he would like. Still, Liam’s apology seemed sincere and if Louis is going to be stuck with one of Cowell’s or Winston’s puppet, he reckons he is probably not the worst option.

“That would be great,” Louis replies too enthusiastically.

He just hopes Liam won’t shadow him every second.

 

*

 

The next morning, the pool is miraculously halfway done. The workers must have continued to build tirelessly through the night; it’s the only explanation for such quick progress, even though Louis slept peacefully and didn’t hear a sound. Still, it stands a bit prouder than the day before, a clear proof of the work that’s been done while they were all sleeping.

He takes a few moments to go talk to the man that looks in charge, asking questions about the width and depth of the pool and the time left until it’s completed, before going to the kitchen tent to get breakfast.

He’s surprised when he scans the crowd and sees neither Zayn nor Niall. They’re usually there earlier than him, Niall at least if not both of them, and he really wanted to apologise for his disappearing act from the day before. Still, he shrugs it off, grabbing a bowl of porridge before going back to eat it outside and to use his time to snoop on the construction.

The reason for their absence doesn’t remain mysterious very long. In fact, he bumps into them snogging against one of the caravans almost as soon as he starts looking for a place to sit with a nice view of the structure’s progression. He yelps at the sight, surprised, before starting to snicker at them as he watches Zayn blush faintly and try to keep Niall at a distance.

“This explains a lot,” Louis teases, leaning on the caravan next to them.

Niall just laughs into Zayn’s neck.

“Good morning,” he says when he’s done, pulling his weight off Zayn’s body and letting his hand slide down his arm to tangle their fingers together.

“Good morning indeed,” Louis replies with an eyebrow raise. “You two then?”

“It’s not a secret,” Zayn says, pushing himself off the caravan. “If you weren’t so obsessed with mythical creatures you would have noticed earlier.”

“Who said anything about being obsessed?”

“Me,” Zayn replies like it’s obvious. “I have eyes,” he adds pointedly.

“Or, you have a better half who tells you things,” Niall interrupts before flicking Zayn’s nose.

Zayn giggles. “Yeah, that too.”

“Didn’t you say Zayn prophesied you were going to meet the love of your life soon?” Louis asks, remembering the first night they met.

Niall snorts. “Well, I think it was more of a pick-up line than a card reading, to be honest, but it makes our audience so excited at the prospect of being told the same thing…” He shrugs and gives Zayn a sappy look.

Louis would be discouraged by such displays if they didn’t look so happy together. He can’t believe he missed it.

“You’re quite the double act then,” he says before taking a bite of his now cold breakfast.

It’s bearable, but not very tasty. If there is one thing he misses from Oxford it’s the deliciously cooked meal. Most of his colleagues would probably say they miss the comfort of their bed and expensive sheets the most, but Louis sleeps too often in his office chair to truly complain about his mattress here at _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_

“Of course,” Niall beams in response. “Where did you disappear off to yesterday?” he asks, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from them.

“I- ”

“Went to see Swimmy?” Zayn guesses, almost teasing.

“You can make fun of me all you want, but it’s my job now,” Louis argues for the sake of arguing.

He’s being a bit petty, he knows, but he doesn’t like being taunted. Especially not when he does have a slight obsession with the beautiful boy from the sea. It’s not his fault, he just can’t help it.

“Your job?”

Louis nods at both of them.

“What job exactly?” Niall asks.

“Taking care of the merman.”

Niall laughs and shakes his head. “That’s Winston’s job.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world; like it’s always been this way and there is not a chance in hell that would ever change. And according to Ben Winston’s face when Simon declared Louis would take over, he thought the exact same thing. Until Louis made promises he doesn’t know he can keep.

“Well, not anymore,” he says with a gulp.

 

*

 

That evening, Louis walks into Swimmy’s tent with determination.

“Give me that,” he says suddenly, interrupting the man about to feed him, and takes the bucket out of his hand.

It’s a young lad, lanky and awkward, miles away from the man Louis remembers seeing the last time he was present for a feeding. He peers into the bucket and flinches at the smell, quickly feeling nauseated.

“How old are these?” he asks, trying to stop himself from gagging.

The man shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know, they just ask me to feed the thing.”

Louis frowns. “They don’t look fresh at all. Who buys them?”

The man shrugs again, scratching at the back of his ginger hair and Louis starts tapping his foot impatiently.

“There’s a deal with the market nearby. They give us the ones they haven’t managed to sell at the end of the week,” the lad admits.

Louis closes his eyes. No wonder he can see Swimmy’s ribs sticking out.

“Does he ever eat them?” he asks as calmly as he can manage, his hand tightening on the bucket’s handle.

“Not really. I’ve seen him nibbling on some, but…” the man trails off and when Louis sees him shrugging for the third time he has to inhale slowly to stop himself from giving him a smack.

He’s not sure which one offends him the most: the lack of care or the lack of professionalism.

“But?” he offers, trying to get the man to elaborate.

“I don’t think he likes them.”

“And you never tried something else that could be more to his taste? Something that’s not _days_ old?” Louis asks.

“S’not my job. I just give him what they give me.”

For a second Louis sees red. “Well, don’t worry. It’s not anymore.”

“What?”

“It’s not your job anymore. I’m his caretaker and I’ll be responsible for feeding him as of today,” Louis declares and he hasn’t exactly cleared it with anyone beforehand, but he doesn’t think Cowell will mind. And if he does, Louis will just have to fight him off like before. Because there is no way Louis will allow it to go on any longer.

“Says who?” the young man demands.

“Says Mr. Cowell.”

 

*

 

“Where’s Simon?” Louis asks Ben abruptly after bursting into his caravan the next morning.

Swimmy’s pool is almost ready and he’s been assured they would be able to transfer him to it after the show that very night, but it offers little comfort for Louis considering everything else that needs improvement.

Ben sighs. “He’s busy,” he says, not looking up from the piece of paper on his desk.

“I need to talk to him,” Louis adds urgently.

“Why?” Ben demands, scratching something off the paper nonchalantly.

“I need some money,” Louis says and he already knows that this is not going to end well.

Ben chuckles, finally looking up from his work. “Of course, you do.”

“I need it for the fish market,” Louis continues. “I want to try something with Swimmy’s diet.”

Ben winces at the nickname before shaking his head. “We have an arrangement with the fish market.”

“Giving him old fish is disgusting!” Louis protests, banging his fist on Winston’s desk, unable to remain calm.

He receives a glare in response.

“It’s the only thing we can afford, especially with your plans of grandeur, having us build it a palace in two days!” Ben says angrily. “The diet is fine and I suggest you take that attitude elsewhere Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “It might not even be fish he eats in the wild… Just let me try some different things, we might be able to narrow it down.”

“No,” Ben replies firmly. “And you can close the door on your way out,” he adds, turning his attention back to the paperwork on his desk.

Louis sighs and shakes his head. He knew it would be a tough battle, but he expected to be able to make them see reason. He’s about to turn around and leave, to regroup and strategize when an idea pops into his head.

“Take it out of my wages,” he offers, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Winston stops writing to give him an incredulous look. Of course, for people who only speak money, this seems like an outrageous offer. But Louis doesn’t need it. He never has.

“I’m serious,” he says with a gulp.

“That’s what worries me,” Ben replies. “You’re soft for the thing. I don’t like that.”

Louis takes a shuddery breath. “What if I am?” he asks softly before shrugging. “What does it matter to you? At the end of the day you get a better attraction for it, right?”   

Winston doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t look convinced, in fact far from it.

“I live here,” Louis argues. “I’m fed here, I don’t need the money. What I need is something to give to that creature so it doesn’t die of malnutrition, so whatever you were planning on giving me as a salary… give it to me for that. Please.”

Louis doesn’t like the idea of pleading, but he can’t help himself.

“Well,” Ben says sharply, opening a drawer and rummaging for something inside. “I can’t tell you what to spend your salary on,” he continues before handing Louis the money. “Your wages for this and last week.”

“Thank you,” Louis replies, grabbing the cash and turning around to leave.

“Good luck with your experiment,” he hears Ben say with disdain as he closes the door.

 

*

 

At lunch, Louis looks for Liam. If he’s going to have a spying assistant, the least he could do is make him do the things he’s reluctant to. He finally spots him as he’s about to exit the tent to get back to work and Louis pushes through the gang of musicians to be able to get to him in time before he leaves.

“Liam!” Louis calls just as he steps out.

Liam turns around at the sound of his name, re-entering the tent and he smiles warmly when he notices Louis. He’s wearing nothing but a dirty undershirt and trousers.

“Hey, do you need anything?” he asks automatically. “I was about to go back to help the construction crew.”

“You’re working on the pool?” Louis says, surprised by Liam’s versatility.

He nods back. “Oh yes, they really want it to be done tonight per Mr. Cowell’s request so I offered to help out. Since you didn’t seem to need me straight away? But of course, if there’s something more urgent…”

“Oh no. It’s for tomorrow actually. I need you to go to the fish market in the morning. As soon as it opens, please. I want the best they have to offer.”

“No problem,” Liam replies with a smile. “Are you looking for something specific?” Liam asks looking a bit surprised by the request though Louis doesn’t understand how he could not make the connection.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know,” Louis grimaces. “It’s for Swimmy, I don’t know what he eats but what they’ve been giving him really doesn’t work so I think we’ll have to do a bit of trial and error.”

Liam’s face lights with understanding and he nods pensively, gaze dropping to his feet for a second.

“I guess just get a bit of everything?” Louis continues without pausing for breath. “Not just fish but whatever they have, no matter how weird. Octopus, seaweed… I don’t care. Just bring me diversity, alright?” he asks, pushing the money into Liam’s hands.

“Yes boss,” Liam smiles, putting the cash into his trouser pocket and going back to work, leaving Louis to get back to his caravan and write out a trials’ chart in his notebook so that recording the results will be easier when the time comes.

 

*

 

Getting Swimmy from his tank into the pool for the first time turns out to be more challenging than Louis expected. Naively, they all thought he’d go without a complaint.

The plan, originally, was to have Liam, who is stronger than Louis, Simon and Ben combined, carry him the short distance between the two locations, but it becomes quite clear after Louis has opened the tank and Liam starts reaching inside that things won’t be that easy.

Swimmy simply doesn’t want to be taken out. He’s thrashing in the water of his tank, trying to push Liam away every time he reaches down for him while Winston groans and Cowell sighs.

“Complete waste of money,” Winston grumbles to his associate. “He doesn’t even want to go in the thing.”

Louis gives him a dark look before putting a hand on Liam’s bicep.

“Let me talk to him,” Louis whispers, hoping neither Ben nor Simon has heard.

He’s not so lucky and Winston growls in response. “Are you kidding me?”

“You can also leave?” Louis suggests strongly, mentally thinking of all the ways he could make this man’s life a living nightmare. He gets down a little so that his face is at the same level as the merman.

“Not a chance,” Ben replies. “Actually, I think I should do it. I’m the one with experience with getting him out of that tank.”

“No!” Louis yells, getting back up and giving him a horrified look. “Don’t you think maybe it’s your very presence that’s the issue here?”

Simon raises an eyebrow towards his colleague as if to say _he has a point_ and for a second they look like they’re arguing without a word before Ben sighs and crosses his arms on his chest.

“It’s not like he has particularly _pleasant_ memories of being out of the water,” Louis continues. “Or of you,” he adds pointedly.

“Fine,” Ben replies throwing his hands up in defeat. “We’ll leave you two alone.”

Swimmy waits at least three minutes after they’ve all left to get his head out of the water and stare at Louis with a hint of anger in his green eyes.

“Are you quite finished now?” Louis asks teasingly, but even the lightheartedness of his tone doesn’t soften the hard look in Swimmy’s eyes.

Louis sighs before getting closer, putting both of his hands on the table.

“Don’t you want more space?” he asks rhetorically. “Come on,” he whispers. “Trust me, please.”

When the boy doesn’t react, Louis shakes his head and decides to try something different.

“Can you show me your wrist?” he asks, holding one of his to demonstrate and he smiles when Swimmy puts both of his hands out of the tank obediently.

Someone has taken off Louis’ crudely made bandages since the last time, maybe it was the creature himself even, there’s no way to know. The skin is still red, but not as swollen. Still Louis treads carefully, his fingers light on Swimmy’s soft hand. He hums as he looks, wishing he had more healing knowledge.

“It looks better,” he says, trying to keep the hesitation out of his voice. “Is it still painful?” he asks, letting his index delicately stroke over the wound.

Swimmy hisses, but he doesn’t take his arms away.

“Sorry,” Louis apologises, pressing a small kiss on the top of Swimmy’s hand.

He lets go of it with a blush when he realises what he has done. He clears his throat, fiddling with his shirt for a second.

“We have to go,” Louis declares, trying to hide his embarrassment and self-consciousness with firmness. “I know you don’t want to, I know you’re scared… But please trust me,” he says as sincerely and softly as possible while reaching inside the tank to grab Swimmy around the waist.

He expects to be pushed off, he expects to have to struggle a bit to hold onto him, but Swimmy doesn’t move at all. His body is tense, from nerves or mistrust or fear Louis doesn’t know, but he still lets himself be carried out of the tank and out of the tent.

“There we go,” Louis whispers in his ear, trying not to shiver at the feeling of long wet hair against the skin of his neck. “We’re almost there,” he adds, tightening his grasp on Swimmy’s tail and his lower back.

He can feel him tremble slightly as they walk between the silent tents. Louis hates having to put him through this even for one second and as they move forward he has to mentally remind himself that this is all for the best, that there is a goal, a good thing at the end of the road.

They pass the guard between the two different areas of the show and he flinches when he sees who Louis is carrying, inhaling sharply and taking a mistrustful step back.

“Idiot,” Louis mumbles when they’re out of earshot.

When they finally get to the pool, Louis lets out a sigh of relief.

He still doesn’t know how Cowell and Winston managed it so fast, but there it is, a big long wooden rectangle so that the merman can stretch his legs - figuratively - and enjoy a smidge more freedom. According to the workers Louis briefly spoke to, it’s seven feet deep, enough for him to feel at home. Or as close to home as this place could be, Louis supposes.

He climbs the stairs to the deck hesitantly, one step at a time, scared of falling off with only a couple of lanterns planted on the ground to illuminate the way.  He lets out a sigh of relief when he finally makes it, smiling triumphantly at the body of water.

“Look,” Louis whispers, nudging Swimmy’s cheek and he can’t quite see his face completely like this, but he can feel the way he gasps at the sight.

Louis has every intention of leaving once Swimmy is finally back in the water, but somehow he gets stuck staring. He can’t take his eyes off the silver glistening of the boy’s tail into the water, the way it moves beautifully after being restrained for so long as he swims back and forth the entire length of the pool a few times. He’s alluring and quick, twirling happily near the bottom with closed eyes and a blissful expression on his face that radiates so brightly that Louis can see it even in the poorly lit night.

After a few minutes, Swimmy gets to one corner of the pool quickly, putting both of hands on the edge to lift part of his body out of the water, eyes wide and observant as they take everything in; the neat rows of silent caravans and further away the chaotically placed red and white tents. Breathing hard and fast, Swimmy continues to ignore Louis completely in favour of looking at the ground intently, observing the little patches of uneven grass between the mud in fascination. He stares, the expression on his face softening and it takes Louis a moment to realise what he’s actually looking at with interest. It’s a flower, a bright red thing that has blossomed here against all odds, a tall lone figure of beauty in this messy place. When he does understand, Louis’ heart twists painfully in his chest for a second and he wishes, not for the first time, that he could know what the creature is thinking right this second.

 

*

 

The next morning, Louis gets woken up by Liam insistently knocking on his door to drop off a basket filled with fish. They’re all individually wrapped with a messy scrawl identifying each species and there are two jars of seaweed neatly snuggled next to them. Louis blinks sleepily at Liam before nodding, grabbing the basket with a mumbled “thanks” as he closes his door and struggles through the process of getting dressed with a yawn.

By the time he’s climbing the stairs up to the deck ten minutes later he’s feeling more awake already. He drops the basket on the deck and turns to look at the pool, hoping Swimmy will come up to say hi.

He doesn’t. He stays at the bottom of the pool instead, either unaware of Louis’ arrival or not caring about it.

“Let’s get to work,” Louis mumbles before sitting down with his back facing the pool.

He opens the basket slowly and starts taking products off, eyes squinting as he attempts to decipher the writing.

“Maybe a bit of dolphin?” Louis says to himself as he passes the package from one hand to the other.

“Ugh, disgusting,” a low, hoarse voice whispers from behind him, from the _pool,_ and Louis’ heart skips a beat because surely that couldn’t have been what he thought it was, surely he’s imagined the response.

He gets up, dropping the package on the deck and trying to turn around so fast, too fast, that he slips on the wet wood. Any attempt to retain his balance is futile as he falls backwards into the water and takes a big accidental gulp.  

He doesn’t have the time to try and swim back up despite the heaviness of his wet clothes, doesn’t have the time to do anything before he feels a pair of strong hands grabbing him around the waist and bringing him back to the surface.

He starts coughing as soon as his head is out of the water.


	7. Chapter Six

“You can talk!” Louis says accusingly, pushing his wet fringe out of his eyes.

Swimmy just stares at him for a second, immobile and eyes wide open, before shaking his head slowly in response.

Louis frowns, offended. “Yes you can,” he argues, struggling a little to stay afloat with his wet clothes dragging him down. “I heard you.”

Swimmy rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says with a shrug. “I can talk.”

“Holy shit,” Louis gasps, faltering a little in his movements when he accidentally swallows some water.

He had hoped and theorised of course but nothing seemed to truly indicate Swimmy could speak their language. There was no reaction to what was spoken around him, no visible sign that he could understand what was being said. Yet, he clearly can. And quite well it seems, from the few words he’s spoken so far. It’s baffling, remarkable, and Louis’ excitement is already bubbling underneath his skin. There are a million thoughts running through his mind, fighting for his attention; a million questions on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t have the time to consider asking them though because one troubling, dominating thought quickly imposes itself.

If Swimmy can talk that means he’s heard everything. Not only heard but understood. Every sneer, every remark, every time Ben Winston called him a monster, the beautiful merman knew.

It makes Louis want to vomit.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something heartfelt and embarrassing when Swimmy disappears under the water without giving him a chance to speak again. Louis frowns. He’s swimming with difficulty to stay in place and to try and see what Swimmy is up to under there when he feels something grabbing his feet suddenly, the weight of it dragging him down. He yelps before going under, feeling panic rise in his chest for a second. Has he been duped? Has this clumsy drowning attempt been the merman’s plan all along?

Swimmy is holding on to his ankle tightly, shaking first his right leg, then his left, and Louis’ mind flashes back to buckets of uneaten fish. Is human flesh more to mermaids’ taste? As soon as the thought enters his mind, it’s like Louis has been awakened and he starts fighting back, kicking blindly at anything and trying to shake off the heavy weight keeping him under. It takes a few seconds but he finally gets there.

He raises to the surface in one powerful kick, angry and cold. He’s still gasping for air when Swimmy’s head finally pops back up.

“What the hell is _your_ problem?” Louis yells out without a thought for the neighbouring caravans. “I don’t know how things are in the ocean but here on Earth we don’t try to eat the people who have been helpful to us.”

Swimmy tilts his head slightly and starts frowning. “I was trying to take these off,” he says, holding Louis’ boots above the water to show them to him. “They were making it hard for you to swim,” he adds before dropping them back into the water.

“Oh,” Louis says with a wince. He clears his throat. “Right. Thanks, I guess.”

Swimmy nods. “It’s a myth, by the way.”

“What is?”

“We don’t eat human flesh and we don’t lure people to their death with a song either.” He looks pensive for a second. “I mean, maybe some merfolks do, there are horrible people everywhere, but it’s not… the norm. Just so you know.”

“Incredible,” Louis whispers. He hasn’t really listened to what Swimmy just said, something against cannibalism? Although, are their species similar enough for it to be considered cannibalism at this point? He can’t quite say with certainty. He’s too enthralled by the mere fact that the merman is _speaking_ to mentally debate it. Or ask.

“That we don’t eat people?” Swimmy asks confusedly. He shakes his head a little, frowning adorably at Louis.

“I meant the fact that you speak… the fact that you speak English even, but yes, that too I suppose,” Louis says jokingly.

“Is it so surprising to you?”

Louis takes a deep breath, thinking back to all the moments he’s spent in Swimmy’s presence, all the hours spent observing him, all those times he’s defended his intelligence to the people working on the show. No, he can’t really say it’s such a surprise.

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he replies with an awkward chuckle and a shudder. The water is too cold for comfort and deeper than it originally seemed. He’s starting to feel tired of swimming, head filled with more questions than ever before.

“Yes you do,” Swimmy says with a hint of a smile on his face. It’s not enough to make his dimples pop yet, but he looks radiant anyway. “You said so, remember? You said they couldn’t know for sure.”

Louis nods, feeling a bit frantic all of a sudden. “I suppose I did,” he says before laughing hysterically.

“Are you alright?”

Swimmy frowns before swimming even closer, so close Louis can feel him breathe on his face. It makes him stop laughing, stop breathing, as he observes carefully what the creature is going to do next. He doesn’t expect the careful arm wrapping around his waist without asking, pressing their body together and supporting some of his weight, but he gets it anyway.

“You should go back on land,” Swimmy declares seriously, his face worried.

Louis nods slowly, hypnotized by the green of his eyes and the intensity of his gaze. He’s so enthralled he doesn’t even notice Swimmy has pushed him back into the deck and it’s not until he feels his back hit the edge of the pool that he realises he’s there.

“Oh,” Louis says when he feels the wood against his skin. He still doesn’t move.

Swimmy raises an eyebrow at him expectantly and Louis’ eyes widen.

“Right.”

Louis stares in his eyes for a few more seconds before turning around and climbing back on the deck. He shivers as soon as he’s out of the water. It’s too early for the day to be anywhere near warm yet and the way his wet shirt is clinging to his torso is anything but comfortable. There’s no way he’s leaving though.

He turns around to start talking to Swimmy again only to realise he’s back under the water already, quickly swimming away.

Louis sighs, about to turn back around and leave when the merman emerges from the water with his boots. He places them on the deck delicately at Louis’ feet.

Louis smiles, carefully putting them aside and clearing the space so he can sit down.

“Thanks, Swimmy,” he rasps, crossed legged in front of him.

Swimmy scrunches his nose. “That’s not my name,” he replies except he doesn’t sound like he’s fully opposed to it per say.

“I guess not,” Louis laughs. “What is your name then? Is it terribly difficult to pronounce?”

“It’s Harry,” he says and that makes Louis laugh again.

“Hey,” Harry protests.

“Sorry,” Louis replies with a huge smile, shaking his head. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s so normal. I guess I was expecting something foreign and different, you know?”

Harry raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Sorry.”

“No, no no,” Louis replies, frantically waving his hands and shaking his head. “It’s lovely. A lovely name, truly. I was just expecting something more like... Brimwylm,” he chuckles, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Brimwylm?” Harry grimaces, giving Louis a judgemental look. “What sort of name is _that_?”

“It’s Old English for Sea-Wave,” Louis says defensively, realising as it comes out of his mouth how silly it sounds.

It makes Harry laugh so much he has to hide under the water for a full minute before he’s calm enough to face Louis again. When he comes back up, Louis is waiting for him with crossed arms and cheeks a violent shade of red.

Harry takes one look at Louis before starting to giggle again, eyes bright and amused. “Sea-Wave,” he mumbles to himself and it takes Louis’ breath away to see him like this.

Swimmy is a person; a full person with thoughts that amuse him and complex feelings. And of course, Louis had known that on some fundamental level but it’s so different seeing it closely like this, seeing the way he keeps giggling behind his hand as he rubs his nose.

“I know, I know,” Louis replies, rolling his eyes self-deprecatingly. “It’s stupid.”

“Do humans name their children like that?” Harry asks innocently, with keen interest.

“Not really, I don’t know what I was thinking. Harold is much prettier.”

“Harry,” he replies insistently. “Not Harold.”

“Are nicknames so frowned upon in mermaid society?” Louis wonders aloud, stroking his chin and pouting exaggeratedly.

Harry shakes his head, looking confused. “No.”

“Hum, interesting. So it’s just you that has the impulse to correct me whenever I use one,” Louis says absently, mostly aiming for teasing and secretly hoping it will make Harry smile again.

When the dimples appear, Louis has to refrain from smirking triumphantly. “I’m Louis, by the way.”

“I know,” Harry replies softly. “I mean, I heard.”

“Right, when you were pretending not to understand a thing.”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Harry says defensively. “They just assumed,” he adds and it’s clear from the stormy look in his eyes that there’s no love, or compassion, for his captors in Swimmy’s heart.  

Louis opens his mouth to protest, to defend them, but he finds he just can’t. Not with sincerity at least. “I guess that’s fair,” he replies. “They underestimated you.”

“You didn’t,” Swimmy says with no hesitation in his voice. “I took you by surprise today, but… you didn’t think I was too stupid, or too much of an animal, to be able to talk.”

“Of course not.” Louis frowns, offended by the mere thought of it. How anyone could be this dismissive is beyond him.

Harry nods seriously. “That’s why I decided to talk to you.”

Louis’ heart grows three sizes too big in the span of a second as soon as the words tumble out of Harry’s mouth. He doesn’t know what to say to this. It feels like a gift, something special and precious, just for him and no one else.

“Thank you,” he replies, wishing his voice wasn’t so shaky.

It feels like he’s being trusted with something important and even though it’s there, Louis chooses to ignore the little voice in the back of his mind that reminds him how deceitful and unworthy he is.

He’s doing this for a reason, he tries to remind himself. His intentions are _good_.

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks, fumbling behind himself for the basket of fish. “I got you some fresh fish?” he babbles nervously. “There’s the dolphin you don’t like of course, but maybe something in there could be to your taste?”

Harry looks carefully interested, eyeing the basket with hunger in his eyes, but he doesn’t reach for any of it. Despite their carefree conversation, he’s still mistrustful.

“I’m sorry about Ben and Simon,” Louis whispers. “I know they’re awful but I promise these are fresh. And if you don’t like any of it then tell me what you eat usually and I’ll find it for you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering because nobody here has been interested in me ever since I was captured.”

“It’s just the right to do,” Louis replies like he doesn’t have an ulterior motive. He means it though, even if it’s not the complete truth. “You were trapped and couldn’t move so I asked them to build you this. You were hungry and they weren’t feeding you properly so I bought these. I don’t know, there’s no explanation. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stares into Louis’ eyes and for a second he thinks maybe mermaids can read minds, maybe he can sense the uncomfortable truth silently floating between them and he’ll call him out on it. But he doesn’t. He just smiles a little and puts both of his elbows on the deck, peering into the basket curiously. He frowns when he notices all the fish are wrapped up.

“I have some carp? Gudgeon? Octopus?”

Harry’s frown deepens at each suggestion, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Um,” Louis fumbles through the basket nervously. He really wants to do this one thing right, wants to be able to provide something better for Harry. “Oysters?” he offers with a shrug and Harry’s eyes light up. He nods, smiling when Louis hands him the parcel and ripping through it quickly.

His easy movements are a blur but suddenly he has one open, slurping messily at the inside before reaching for a second. He doesn’t give Louis a second glance, just goes through oysters after oysters desperately. He was clearly famished, might have been for weeks, and it makes Louis tighten his jaw in anger. He shakes his head, looking away from Harry’s meal and going through the rest of the basket.

“There’s some seaweed too?” Louis offers and Harry smiles, dimples popping and mouth full, giving him an approving nod. “Krill?”

Harry gulps. “I love krill,” he says happily, holding one of his hand out expectantly.

“Okay,” Louis replies, opening the parcel for him before handing it out. “Anything else that you would like?”

“We don’t eat big fish,” Harry reveals between two bites.

“I guess that’d be cannibalism I suppose,” Louis mumbles.

“What’s canabilism?” Harry asks, cocking his head in adorable confusion.

Louis laughs awkwardly. “Doesn’t matter. Anything else I should tell Liam before he goes back to the market tomorrow?”

Harry shakes his head. “These are okay.”

“You sure? No special demands?”

Harry crushes the food happily and loudly between his teeth in response.

“Alright,” Louis laughs. “You’re happy with these, I get it. What about the pool?” he asks, eyeing the water. “Is it alright? Do you need anything else?”

Harry gulps and gives Louis a slow calculating glance. “It’s as good as it can be.” He pauses for a second. “I don’t have to go back to the other one?” he asks nervously, biting his lower lip.

Louis takes a deep breath before answering. “Well… I have to bring you back for the show,” he admits with a small voice and a forced smile.

Harry’s face falls for a half a second before his schools his features into a neutral expression. “Of course.”

“It’s only a couple of hours every night,” Louis tries to say encouragingly.

Harry hums before reaching for the seaweed jar.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry replies with a sigh.

And it’s not. Truly. Louis knows he’s not responsible for the show, for the way it uses Harry’s whole existence, but it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think about it.

*

“What did you do to Mr. Cowell?” Louis asks, a few days later, chin jutting towards the limping figure in the distance.

He’s been wondering ever since Liam first mentioned it. They’re all a bit afraid of Harry after all, except maybe Lux who adores him without a care for his unusual appearance. From all the artists to every single member of the crew, there’s a hint of dread on everyone’s face whenever the merman is concerned and Louis suspects this fear has to do with what happened between Harry and Simon. No one talks about it but they’ve all seen their boss getting worse, his pace getting a bit slower every day, and the need to use his cane more preeminent than before. Even Louis, who hasn’t been there very long, has noticed. And according to Liam, Mr. Cowell wasn’t limping before Harry bit him.

Whatever it is that happened, Harry doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it either. He doesn’t even look at Louis, pretends like he hasn’t heard him at all and keeps letting himself float on his back with a little help from his tail once in a while, the movement of it making tiny waves in the pool, ripples that make him drift.

“Harry,” Louis says seriously, a frown on his face. He doesn’t want to assume the worst. In fact, he fully expects the whole thing to be Simon’s fault if he’s completely honest. Still, he can’t help the morbid curiosity. He needs to know.

Harry sighs loudly and rolls his eyes before submerging himself completely into the water and starting to swim towards Louis. It doesn’t take him very long, the pool isn’t large enough for that, and when he emerges he puts both of his hands carefully on the deck next to Louis’ feet, looking cautious and unwilling.

"He deserved it," he says carefully, a stormy look on his face.

Louis sighs, scratching at the scruff on his cheek nervously. He doesn't even want to imagine. It makes his stomach feel heavy thinking of different scenarios that could have led to him attacking Simon. Swimmy’s been nothing but mellow ever since they’ve officially met and for him to snap…

"I just bit him," Harry ends up admitting with a shrug though Louis already knew that. "He deserved it," he repeats almost absently, eyes fixed on the wood of the deck, one finger carelessly scratching at it.

"I don't doubt that," Louis replies because he really doesn't. Money is the only language Mr. Cowell speaks and his precious hybrid is his way to fortune. Louis doesn’t doubt he’d do anything to make sure he gets to keep it. He likes to appear kind, will smile charmingly to the adoring public of _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ and give out candies to children to seem benevolent, but behind the scenes, he's a ruthless businessman whose sole focus is profit. The longer Louis stays the more disgusted he feels.

"Why isn't it healing, though?" Louis asks. That’s what’s been bothering him the most since he’s first heard about it. Surely a small bite would have healed by now? Unless there is something in mermaids’ saliva that stops the process from happening? It’s an intriguing enigma and he’d love the answer for his observation journal.

"Did he ask you to say that?" Harry demands suddenly, taking Louis out of his thoughts. He looks suspicious, moving a little backwards to get away from the deck, eyeing Louis up and down with distrust on his face. "Does he want to know a cure?" Harry continues insistently. "'Cause you can tell him there isn't one and the redness isn't gonna stop until he loses the leg," he finishes harshly, disdain and anger twisting his face in an unattractive grimace.

Louis' eyes widen at the anger displayed.  "Umm," he hesitates, unsure how to proceed. He can't really blame Harry. Why should he be expected to feel compassion for his captor? "He didn't ask me anything," he chooses to say because it's the truth and he needs Harry to know that. The last thing he wants is for him to wrongly believe he’s on Simon’s side. “I was just curious, I swear!"

Harry doesn't look convinced.

"Seriously," Louis insists. "I think he's way too embarrassed to mention it. Nobody is allowed to talk about it in here. Or at least, that’s what it looks like. It’s all very hush-hush. That’s why I was so curious. I’m new, I wasn’t here when it happened and everybody seems to think it’s this big taboo. I'm not..." Louis sighs and closes his eyes for a second. "I do believe you when you say he deserved it,” he adds sincerely, hoping Harry will believe him. “If you were defending yourself..." he trails off. “Simon’s awful”, he finally chooses to say softly.

It's none of his business of course, but as horrible as it sounds, Louis doesn't think he would give Simon the cure, even if Harry were willing to share it.

"He's embarrassed?" Harry asks, looking confused.

Louis smirks. "Well, he hasn't said so but... with the way people are scared to even mention it, I'd say yeah. He's really embarrassed by it."

"Good," Harry says vindictively. "He had no right to-" he stops himself, too heated or upset to keep talking.

"No right to what?" Louis asks a hint too insistently.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry says angrily before disappearing into the pool.

Louis waits a few seconds, counting in his head up to one hundred before realising Harry has no intention of coming back up. He gulps; heart tightening painfully as he waits and waits for Harry to come back. He's a part of this too. He can judge Mr. Cowell and Mr. Winston all he wants but it doesn’t change anything. He's a contributor, just as guilty as them, and even though he knows sometimes sacrifices must be made - and he does want to learn more about Harry, wants to fully gain his trust, wants to know everything about him - he can't help feeling like the scum of the Earth when he takes a few seconds to fully think about the implications of Harry's presence here. Louis wants to know where Harry came from, he does, but he's not sure he's ready to be confronted with the reality of what those answers will bring forwards.

Louis starts smiling when he sees Harry emerging from the water, thinking he’ll get the opportunity to continue their conversation, to understand Harry’s anger, to provide a listening ear, but it becomes quite clear as he starts swimming in the opposite direction that he has no intention of acknowledging Louis’ presence again. He puts his elbow on the side of the pool and starts looking around, pretending Louis isn’t there.

After ten minutes of observing him silently and seeing his gaze drop to the red flower on the side of the pool for the sixth time, Louis sighs and turns his face away, choosing to lay down on the deck, hands crossed behind his head and shirt half unbuttoned. It’s one of those rare few sunny days in London and his obligations on the show have been hard on his sleeping schedule so Louis lets himself rest under the rays’ warmth, eyes closed and a relaxed expression on his face. Harry might not want to talk now, he might be angered by what Louis has said, but the day is still young and he doesn’t have anything better to do than rest and wait.

He must fall asleep somehow because the next thing he knows he’s awakened by a splash of cold water on his face.

“What the-” Louis yelps, automatically covering his face with his hands even if the attack is over.

“You’re still here,” Harry says accusingly.

Louis sits back up, wiping the water from his cheek and looking at the merman’s thunderous face.

“You’re still mad?” he replies in the same accusing tone. “And of course, I’m still here, where else would I go?”

“You don’t have to check up on me every second of every day!” Harry protests tail tapping on the water angrily.

“Technically yes, since it’s my job,” Louis replies, getting a little closer to the edge of the deck, putting one of his feet in the water then pushing at Harry’s shoulder with it. “And it’s not even me you’re angry at,” he adds with certainty even though it’s just an educated guess.

His suspicions are confirmed when Harry opens his mouth to reply before grimacing.

“It’s fine if you’re angry,” Louis adds.

“I know!” Harry says defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about Simon. I’m sorry. It was clear you didn’t want to talk about it and it wasn’t very courteous of me to insist.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks after a beat.

Louis raises his eyebrow in confusion, thinking for a second that they might not have apologies under the sea.

“Courteous?” Harry says hesitantly, testing the word. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“English isn’t your first language, is it?”

Harry shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate and despite the curiosity burning inside of him, Louis decides to drop it for now. He’s already been clumsy enough for one day and the last thing he wants is for Harry to loath him as much as Cowell and Winston not even one week in.

“It means… polite. It comes from the manners people needed to have in the King’s court,” he explains, resisting the temptation to expand on the word’s etymology no matter how interesting it is. He’s not in his classroom right now.

“Oh,” Harry nods before licking his lower lip. “I agree then.”

Louis tries to stop himself but he can’t help the small smile from appearing in the corner of his mouth. “You think I wasn’t being courteous?”

“Uh uh,” Harry says, shaking his head slowly with a hint of mischief on his face. “You knew I didn’t want to talk about it but you pushed anyway.”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Am I forgiven?” Louis teases, before realising he might be misreading the entire situation. “Unless you’d prefer for me to leave? I was hoping we could get to know each other better but I understand if that’s not something you particularly want. I can leave you alone.”

Harry hesitates for a second, eyes wide and uncertain.

“I haven’t hated your presence these past few days so I suppose I can tolerate it a bit longer,” he ends up saying diplomatically. “Since I’m stuck with you being the only person who knows I can talk…”

Louis scoffs. “That was your choice, Mister.”

“Yes,” Harry says seriously. “don’t make me regret it.”

Louis fumbles for what to say for a second before embarrassingly blurting out “I have six siblings!” in a loud voice.

 _Idiot,_ he mentally scolds himself as soon as he says it. Harry is out here being honest, confiding in him, trusting him and the only thing Louis can think of doing is panicking his way through changing the subject. He never pretended to be smooth, but this is reaching new lows.

Harry looks at him for a second, gaze piercing and evaluating before he nods slightly, seemingly deciding to go with it. "Really?" he asks a bit unconvinced, but with the hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

He hasn’t gone back under the water yet, so Louis sees it as a victory, small as it might be. He nods back at him. Big families are not uncommon where he’s from, but he wonders if it's the same under the water. "Yes. They're all younger than me, five sisters and one little brother."

Harry whistle. "That's a lot."

Louis shrugs. It's never been particularly considered as such in his close circle. "It's alright, makes family life lively. And most people have big families these days after all."

"Really? We don't," Harry reveals and Louis finds himself leaning towards the water subconsciously, eager to hear more about where Harry comes from.

"You don't have any siblings?"

Harry shakes his head, a storm passing on his face, his eyes troubled. "I have one,” he replies softly. “My sister Gemma, she's older than me."

Louis automatically reaches for Harry's shoulder for a second, wanting to offer comfort or compassion, or _something_ ,  before he remembers himself and takes his hand away. "I'm sorry," he says instead, trying to keep clear boundaries between them. He’s already too attached. "You must miss her."

Harry's jaw tightens and he nods silently.

"Why don't you have big families? Don't your reproductive systems allow it?" Louis asks, curious to know the answer and eager to divert Harry's attention from what is clearly a painful topic.

"Um, it's just easier. We move around a lot, big families lose members if there's too many of them."

Mermaids are nomadic people. Louis wouldn't have guessed that at all, has never even thought about it, but he supposes it makes sense.

"You never stay in the same place?" he exclaims, acting shocked in the hope Harry will give him more information. He’d feel sneaky and bad, but he’s actually genuinely curious about it all.

"Not exactly," Harry chuckles. "Clans have their territories they like best, where they're used to hunting and gathering. Mine stays in the English and Bristols channel...? At least that what's the sailors call them."

"Fascinating," Louis replies as more pieces of the Harry puzzle fall into place.

"Aren't humans the same?" Harry asks, a confused frown on his face.

Louis laughs and shakes his head. "No, not at all."

"But -" he stops himself to stare at Louis suspiciously. "You're not just saying that to make fun of me?"

"What?" Louis giggles into his hand. "Of course not. Why would think that?"

"Simon and the others never stay in the same place too long... Neither do all the sailors I've seen around the coast," Harry explains logically and of course, his belief makes sense if those are the only example of humanity he's ever witnessed.

"Well, those are the exceptions, not the rule. Most people are born and die in the same place. Or they find a new city, a new town, but they stay for a long time there. At least here in England."

"Were you born near here then?" Harry demands eagerly.

"No, I was born on an Estate, up north."

"What is it like?"

Louis smiles fondly, picturing his parents' land. "Green," he says even though that’s vague. Knowing Harry though he’ll like the image. "With a big luxurious house and fields of land. There's a little village nearby and a big forest. It gets a bit scary at night, but it's beautiful. My mother has a garden near the house with the most colourful of flowers, when they blossom in the spring it's like walking in a dream," Louis describes in a soft voice. He hasn't been home for a while, always too busy with teaching, too busy with research. The last time he saw the house was at his eldest sister's wedding, over a year ago.

"It seems beautiful," Harry says, taking Louis out of his thoughts.

"You'd love it," Louis says, remembering Harry's wide-eyed excitement at the sight of grass, his dreamy expression when he sees flowers. "When I was a child, it felt like the land stretched on forever."

"What did you do to pass the time?" Harry demands and Louis is aware none of this is helpful to his research, that he should probably try to turn the conversation back to Harry's way of life, but he has to answer him when he looks so curious, so intrigued, at the prospect of learning more about this strange world he’s been thrust into, green eyes wide open and keen.

"Get in trouble," Louis admits in a whisper. "I wasn't the most obedient of children. My poor nannies," he says with a chuckle, remembering the women with fondness. The things he put them through.

Harry is looking confused again, mouthing the word "nannies".

"A nanny is someone hired to take care of the children," Louis explains, gesticulating widely and abstractly. It’s a habit that he’s unable to get rid of and that makes most of his students laugh. Not Harry, though; he’s following the movement of Louis’ hands with interest, listening to every word carefully. "You don't have that?" Louis finishes explaining, hoping his face isn’t flushing. He’s not used to having such devoted attention.

The only other person who lets him babble away is Humphrey. And sometimes his mother, when she’s in an agreeable mood. She’ll listen to him talk about fairies for ages, a discouraged expression on her face, yet her eyes are always fond and she nods appropriately when he gets particularly animated. She’s not one of the creatures whose existence he’s been trying to prove forever though and her eyes, while absolutely beautiful, are not as striking and otherworldly as Harry’s.

"Parents take care of their children,” said otherworldly creature replies, amused, and it hits Louis again that this is really happening. He’s not dreaming.

"Well, on land sometimes they're busy and the nanny is there to help,” he explains even though it’s more complicated than that. He’s not sure he could say _sometimes parents are too busy playing the role their social status imposes to take care of the children_ without having to launch into a complex explanation of British high society and he’s just not in the mood for that. This will have to do.

"And you made life difficult for her?" Harry asks and it takes Louis a moment to remember who " _her"_ is supposed to refer to.

"The nannies?” he says after a second of confusion. “The last one I had quit after only a month. Her exact parting words were ‘Louis is a living nightmare’."

Harry laughs at that, a squeaky thing he tries to hide in his hand with a blush, but that sounds utterly adorable.

"I was twelve at the time," Louis continues to explain. _Poor Janine_ , he thinks, barely remembering the blond woman. She had been given glorious references in exchange for her silence about the Tomlinson boy. His parents, after all, had always been terrified of gossip, especially with such an eccentric eldest child. "My parents hired a new one for the girls and left me to my own devices after that. Besides, I was on the verge of going to boarding school, I didn't really need one."

Harry looks pensive for a second. He chuckles slightly. "Well,” he says teasingly, “I guess now I know how you managed to convince Simon to build me this.”

 _You really don’t_ , Louis thinks uncomfortably before opening his mouth in mock outrage.

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate but I appealed to his sensitivity to your cause,” he says, which is only half a lie. “There was no mischief or shenanigans involved whatsoever, no matter my troublesome past."

Harry hums, unconvinced. “Of course. That’s the type of man he is,” he says sarcastically.

“He’s a shit,” Louis replies automatically, feeling a spark of satisfaction when Harry snorts at the comment. “But he’s not totally beyond feeling compassion.”

It’s not entirely true, but Louis doesn’t think he could admit what he’s offered Simon in exchange for all those changes. Not now, not yet. Not when he’s only just starting to gain Swimmy’s trust and they’re having such a pleasant conversation.

“Right.”

“What about you? Were you a little troublemaker?”

“No,” Harry protests a little too forcefully. “Well, not too much.”

Swimmy makes a show of rolling his eyes as he admits it. Louis really shouldn’t be so endeared when he’s meant to observe and research. “Somehow I don’t believe that at all,” he says doubtfully.

Harry shrugs, a little smirk in the corner of his mouth.

“Fine! Keep your secrets,” Louis teases with an eye roll. “What’s a clan then? How many people is that?” he asks, changing the subject. Again, it’s not a very smooth transition, but he’s curious.

“It depends… a few families? Sometimes it goes up to twenty, but those are rare,” Harry explains. “Mine is…” he falters for a second, shaking his head before meeting Louis’ eyes and smiling a little too forcefully.

Louis’ heart twinges with a hint of regret when he sees Harry’s reaction, the way his eyes become a bit more sullen for a moment. This is clearly a painful topic and he feels cruel for mentioning it, for insisting like this. But just as it had appeared, suddenly it’s gone, Harry’s face looking lively again as he continues his explanation. He’s a surprisingly good actor, Louis is coming to realise.

“Mine isn’t that big, just my family and three others. The youngest just turned three.”

“Do you ever see other clans?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“And you’re not territorial?” Louis wonders, losing himself in the image of a mermaids war for a few seconds.

“Of course. That’s why we mostly stay in the channels. It’s our home.”

“Do clans fight?” Louis asks, still lost in his mental picture of fantastical creatures battling right under humans’ noses without them ever noticing.

“Sometimes,” Harry shrugs. “It’s nothing like humans’ wars, though,” he adds, face darkening at the thought.

Louis smiles softly. “So you know about those.”

Harry nods. “Ships fight too in human wars,” he says, lowering his eyes to the deck. “Bodies get lost at sea…”

“It’s weird…” Louis starts saying absently. He shakes his head before scrunching his nose at Harry. “All this time your people have known about us and we’ve just been living completely unaware,” he explains. Louis more than anyone knows that it’s not entirely true, that there’s been stories and believers throughout the ages, but it still feels like creatures like Harry have the upper hand. All this time he’s had knowing humans are real while Louis just got the confirmation mermaids exist.

“What did you think all the songs and legends were for?” Harry asks innocently. “If they’re not meant as a way to share the truth?”

“Just stories.”

Harry laughs. “There’s no such things.”

 

*

 

Time passes in a blur, Louis’ head filling with details about Harry’s life in the sea as he gains a few more pieces of the puzzle. He’s nowhere near completion, nowhere near having enough information to call it a day. Every time Harry opens his mouth to share another story Louis has a multitude of questions blooming in his mind and he can’t imagine a moment when it’s going to stop. There’s too much he hasn’t been told yet, too much left to understand.

Suddenly, without him realising, the afternoon disappears into the evening and the whole site bursts alive with the excitement of the approaching showtime. Louis can easily spot Niall’s red suit in the distance, drawing the attention to him in the sea of brightly costumed people quickly getting ready for the show. Even from further away, he can feel the anticipation taking over everyone on site. Despite having done this dozen of times, hundreds even, artists are chatting nervously every night, arranging each other’s makeup and listening to the musicians practicing a couple of songs. Niall gives him a friendly wave before disappearing with Zayn in the public side of the site. This is his cue.

“Time to get to work,” Louis tells Harry, holding out a hand towards him.

Harry’s eyes follow the movement of the crowd as the artists leave the private area and slowly make their way to their respective tents, his jaw tightening for a second before he deflates on a sigh and reaches out of the water to grab Louis’ hand. Every night it’s been the same, no arguments, no refusals, just that resigned expression in his eyes as he lets himself be carried from the pool to the tiny tank where he has to stay still and be gawked at for a few hours. Louis tightens his hold on Harry’s body and they start making their way to his tent. As usual, the mood changes slightly in the crowd, people eyeing Harry suspiciously, traces of fear on their face they try to hide whenever Louis meets their gaze. He clenches his jaw, fingers digging into Harry’s waist while he keeps walking ahead.

When he gets to the tent, Liam is there, busy making last minutes adjustments and ensuring everything is ready. He’s holding a rag in his hands and, for once, the glass of the tank is perfectly polished. Louis would feel guilty for making him do the dirty work but when Simon and Ben said they wanted Liam to work with him they never specified how. If he’s to endure a spy on his team, he’s certainly not going to facilitate his work.

“Hi Liam,” Louis says, nodding in his direction and watching him open the tank. “Thanks,” he adds once it’s done, walking up to what is essentially Harry’s prison and delicately lowering him inside.

Harry doesn’t meet his gaze as he sits in the tank, hands gripping the edge and stopping Louis from closing it.

“Ready?” he whispers softly, knowing Harry won’t reply in front of Liam but still needing the reassurance that he’s not doing it completely without Harry’s consent.

He simply blinks slowly in reply and takes his hand off the edges. Then, he lets himself sink into the water, laying on his back with an empty look on his face. Louis gulps, closing the tank with a bang and locking it, hands shaking a little as he arranges the chains properly. Every night, it’s the same routine, but his heart still feels heavy in his chest every time.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Liam says with a small chuckle.

“Uh?” Louis asks, staring at Harry’s face; his closed eyes and tightened fists.

“It just feels wrong to put him back in there after seeing him swim in that pool is all,” Liam explains. He snorts and when Louis turns to look at him, he’s shaking his head. “I’ll see you after the show.”

 

*

 

That night, Louis spends his evening lying flat on his belly, nose in his notebook as he writes pages and pages about Harry’s family. Every single stupid detail like the black of his mother’s hair and his sister’s obsession with pearls. He writes about the Bristol channel where Harry was born and the coasts where his clan roams. He even spends ten whole minutes trying to remember the exact words Swimmy used to describe the colours of the ocean during a sunset. He doesn’t want to miss anything, doesn’t want to forget any of Harry’s secrets. Like the fact that he likes to sing songs he’s learned from sailors and that sometimes he spends hours trailing after a ship just to get the melody right. To his parents’ disapproval.

Louis isn’t sure how that’s meant to help his studies, or who this type of information would profit, but he’s interested so that’s what matters. More than interested, he’s fascinated. He can’t stop thinking about the way the sun makes Harry’s tail sparkles, the way he moves gracefully like he’s one with the water, the way he giggles at Louis’ jokes when he knows no one is watching them and it’s safe…

There’s something beyond curiosity that has started to settle in Louis’ heart, something too close to a fondness for comfort but as he writes another lengthy paragraph about Harry’s favourite food, Louis chooses to ignore it. So he likes Harry a lot? What does it matter?

 

*

 

The next morning, he’s awakened by the sound of knocking on his caravan’s door. It’s Liam, as usual, so he allows himself a second of bliss as he snuggles back into bed and ignores him. Liam will probably leave the basket of fresh food for Harry next to the door as he usually does anyway so a few more minutes of sleep can’t hurt anyone.

He’s about to fall back asleep, can feel his muscles relaxing again when the insistent knocking starts again. Louis sighs and opens one eye disgruntledly to glare at the door where the noise is coming from.

“Louis?” Liam’s voice calls and why is he choosing this morning to break their beautifully established routine of the past few days?

Liam goes to the market. Liam drops food at Louis’ door and knocks to alert him of its presence. Liam leaves and Louis sleeps a while longer. It’s perfect. It works. It’s the whole point of accepting Liam as his assistant, after all. Well, not only sleeping exactly but having help in all and every task relating to the care of Harry. Especially the ones he’s not enthused about.

“Yes,” Louis finally answers after a full minute of mentally cursing the disturbance of their carefully constructed balance.

He thought they had found the perfect arrangement. What a disappointment this morning is already proving to be. Still, if Liam is being this annoying, it probably means something important so Louis gets up clumsily, yawning as he puts on some trousers and puts his suspenders over his still naked chest. He looks down at himself for a second before shrugging and passing a hand through his messy hair.

He’ll deal with this later.

He opens the door, meeting Liam’s cheerful face with a suspicious glare.

“Hi!” Liam says happily. “Good morning boss,” he adds, handing the basket over to Louis who wrinkles his nose at the potent smell but takes it nonetheless.

“Don’t… call me that,” Louis replies with distaste.

Sir, he can handle. It’s what most of his student refer to him as. He gets Professor Nutter behind his back from his rowdiest ones of course, but even that doesn’t make him feel quite as uncomfortable as boss does. He’s nobody’s boss, surely.

“And hi,” he finally adds after a bit when Liam doesn’t respond to his request. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I got you Swimmy’s food,” Liam explains.

 _Like every morning,_ Louis thinks exasperatedly.

“And I was thinking we could give it to him together,” he continues, trying not to stare at Louis’ naked chest.

“Why?” Louis asks, already suspicious about the motive behind this idea.

He doesn’t like it one bit. It’s got _Simon Cowell wants information_ written all over it.

Liam shrugs awkwardly. “I just… I just think it would be better if I got to know him and your methods,” he says pointedly, raising an eyebrow at him.

Harry won’t like it. Louis knows that much, but he can’t exactly say no. He’s not Ben nor Simon’s favourite employee, that much has been clear from the start. Now with their new expectations of him, and the incentive they’ve offered, he can’t really imagine himself refusing their right-hand man access.

“Right,” he replies slowly, blinking sleepily at Liam and not moving.

“So I can come?” Liam asks, a slight hesitation in his voice he’s not even trying to hide.

“I suppose you must,” Louis says sarcastically, handing the basket back to Liam who smiles happily, either unaware of the tone of Louis’ agreement, or more likely choosing to ignore it. “I’ll get dressed properly, just give me a minute.”

“Of course, I’ll be right outside,” he replies, taking a step back and closing the caravan door to give Louis a bit of privacy.

Five minutes later, Louis comes out looking slightly more presentable, hair combed and wearing an actual shirt. “Ready?” he asks Liam with a shrug before starting to make his way to the pool without waiting for an answer.

Once they get there and climb the stairs to the deck, Louis sees Harry emerging from the water with a big smile on his face that falls the second he notices Liam is trailing behind. He frowns, eyes shifting between Liam’s figure and Louis’ face, and he takes his hands off the deck, swimming backwards to put a little distance between them. Louis gnaws at his lower lip, hoping the apologetic look he’s sending Harry’s way will be enough for him to understand that he has no choice in this.

"Hey," Louis says, even though he knows Harry would never reply in front of anyone else.

He can feel Liam's uncomfortable stare on his face but he chooses to keep looking ahead, begging Harry with his eyes to collaborate.

"Hey," Liam says too, taking his cue from Louis. He clears his throat. "Hello, good morning…” He hesitates for a moment before adding: “Swimmy” in a squeaky voice.

Louis smirks at Harry before sitting down on the deck and looking up at Liam expectantly.

“Oh,” Liam replies, handing him the basket and sitting down next to him. "So, this is what you do every morning then?"

Louis nods and starts to open the packages straight away. There’s no point in making Harry wait for his breakfast, especially since he’s giving them half-suspicious, half-angry looks already. He grabs the krill first, knowing they’re a favourite, and offers them to Harry. He tries not to feel too repulsed by the creature’s appearance, but it’s a hard task. He’s getting used to them after days of contact, but Louis can’t pretend to find them particularly appealing.

It takes a few seconds of them staring at each other before Harry reaches for the crustacean and disappears into the water to eat it. Louis jumps slightly at the splash the water makes. He shouldn't be shocked at Harry's refusal to eat in their presence and yet. He usually always stays with Louis, talking in a soft voice and laughing as he goes through most of the food in the basket.  Clearly Liam’s presence makes things a bit different, but somehow Louis didn't think it would be that bad. He blinks at the pool for a second, hoping Harry will come back up, before reluctantly turning towards Liam.

"Yes, that's basically it. Nothing extremely interesting I'm afraid."

Liam looks disappointed. "You two don't seem as friendly as you were before," he says almost accusingly.

Louis huffs. "What were you expecting? He was tortured by humans, of course, he's wary," he says heatedly, unable to resist coming to Harry’s defense. "He's much friendlier when you're not there, to be honest," he adds bitterly.

"He is?" Liam asks, wide-eyed and interested.

Louis could kick himself. Why would he even say that? He's supposed to tread carefully and here is he getting annoyed and defending himself rather than choosing the information he's sharing about Harry meticulously.

"Well, we're not best friends or anything, but he usually stays on the surface to eat."

"You think it's because of me," Liam says, sounding devastated.

"He remembers you, Liam. And you haven't apologized yet," Louis replies even if he knows it's a bit of a low blow. Liam feels guilty, that much has been obvious from the start. Louis probably shouldn't use it to his advantage.

Liam inhales sharply before nodding. "What else do you do then?"

Louis shrugs, unsure what he's supposed to reply. It’s not like he can tell the truth. "Not much," he lies easily, "I just talk to him."

"What about tricks?"

"What?" Louis asks, surprised by Liam’s straightforwardness. Of course, this is what it was always going to come down to but he thought they might beat around the bush for a while before talking about it. It’s only been a few days after all.  

"Have you been teaching him any?" Liam asks and he's trying his best to look casual and uninterested, but Louis knows who is really asking that question.

"It's only been a couple of days," Louis replies, tensed and annoyed. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Nothing, I'm just curious. You did say the pool would make him a better attraction is all." Liam scratches behind his neck with his right hand as he says it.

"Well, unfortunately, the answer is no. I'm a bit too busy trying to get him to trust me," Louis whispers angrily before tearing a package of oysters open. He feels uncomfortable admitting it out loud, especially in here, even though Harry is in the water and probably can't hear them.

"Of course, of course," Liam says slowly. He puts a hand on Louis' shoulder before squeezing it slightly. "I didn't mean to put pressure on you or anything. We're working together, I want to help."

It takes everything in his power for Louis not to snort, but he manages it. He wishes he could trust Liam, he really does. He's nice with a calming presence and sincere eyes. But he can't. Not when the shadows of Mr. Cowell and Mr. Winston are looming over them both.

“Help to make a bigger profit you mean.”

Liam is clearly taken aback by Louis’ anger and he sighs loudly before replying. “Of course, it’s my job. But that’s not all I want to help with. I do want to make things better for him too. We’re not that different Louis. If you stopped thinking we’re against one another maybe we could be a team and actually make a difference for Swimmy.”  

“I’ve already made a difference for Swimmy,” Louis replies stubbornly, mentally considering Liam’s argument.

“Oh, so everything is perfect now? Nothing needs improving or a change?” Liam says teasingly and he’s right of course, but Louis isn’t sure he can let go and let him in.

“I suppose,” he admits with an eye roll, playing with the packet of oysters. Surely Harry is done with the crustacean by now? Surely he wants to come back up to get more food and free Louis from the awkwardness of this conversation?

“So, what can I do to help?” Liam asks, eager as ever. Louis wishes there was a way for him to know for sure if he’s sincere or not. Time, he supposes, will tell.  

"Well,” Louis replies nonchalantly, testing the waters, “maybe it would help if you didn't come with me to feed him anymore.You clearly made him uncomfortable."

Liam scrunches his nose in reply. “I did, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Right,” Liam sighs. “You’re right. I should leave. I’ll te-” Liam stops himself and gives Louis a frightened side-glance before blushing. “I’ll leave you to it and, of course, I’m always available if you or Swimmy needs something,” he finishes quickly. He gets up, brushing the dust off his trousers before nodding in Louis’ direction and running down the few stairs.

Louis frowns, eyes fixed on the rapidly walking figure. What was Liam about to say? I’ll tell? I’ll test? And more importantly, why would he stop himself?

“Is he gone?” Harry asks from his left, surprising Louis and dragging him out of his thoughts. He’s leaning on the deck, a halo of dark hair framing his annoyed face.

Louis groans, handing him the oysters before reply. “You startled me you idiot,” he grumbles before smiling. “And you know very well he is otherwise you wouldn’t have come out or talked.”

“Why was _he_ here?” Harry asks before slurping at his breakfast.

“Liam does work here you know. And he’s the one who buys your food,” Louis replies, not sure why he’s suddenly so keen on defending the man.

“He works for Ben and Simon.”

“So do I?”

Harry looks thoughtful for a second. “But you’re nice.”

“Listen, I hate defending them,” Louis replies, widening his eyes for emphasis, “but Liam feels awful about the situation. He told me. More than once even. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only reason he hasn’t told you is because he thinks you can’t understand us.”

“He might be lying,” Harry argues.

“True,” Louis replies uncomfortably. _Like you’re lying!_ an annoying voice at the back of his head screams. “Which is why I don’t trust him yet.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not, he was one of the creeps who used to leave you out of the water so long without doing anything,” Louis protests, images of Harry’s frightened eyes flashing in his mind. “He looks nice and repentant, doesn’t mean I’d trust him with any of our secrets.”

Harry smiles at that, mumbling _our secrets_ into an oyster shell, looking properly pleased and it makes Louis’ heart skips a beat.

“Yeah,” Louis continues softly, “our secrets. I wouldn’t have brought him here if he hadn’t cornered me.”

Harry looks surprised for a moment before nodding his agreement. “Sorry,” he says, reaching out for Louis’ wrist, wrapping his long fingers delicately around it and squeezing for a second before letting go, his fingertips’ stroke leaving a hot trail on the back of Louis’ hand.

“What-” Louis clears his throat, awkwardly rubbing his hand against his trousers. “What are you sorry for?”

“I thought you’d brought him on purpose to… I don’t know, scare me or something. It was silly,” Harry admits with a blush.

Louis feels his heart dropping at the confession, his jaw clenching angrily. He forces himself to remain calm.

“I can’t really blame you,” he replies. “You haven’t had the best example of human behaviour in here. I’d definitely expect the worse too if I were you.”

“But you haven’t given me any reason not to trust you, so I’m sorry.”

“Well Swimmy, you don’t have to worry about that. Apology absolutely accepted,” Louis says goofily. He hesitates for a second before adding: “And why would I bring him with me when his presence deprives me of yours?”

Harry laughs in response. “Right, that’s true.”

*

 “It’s hot today,” Harry says mischievously later that afternoon.

They’ve spent most of the morning and the beginning of the afternoon talking, lazily lounging around all day, Liam’s awkward visit completely forgotten.

Louis stops in his tracks. “Not that hot,” he lies, feeling the sweat pooling at the bottom of his spine, feeling the stickiness of his shirt as it clings uncomfortably to his body.

It is in fact very hot, the hottest day of the summer so far, Louis would bet on it. He’s not willing to admit it yet though because he can’t imagine the cheeky look on Harry’s face is a good sign. He’s been in a teasing mood all day, happy to have a friend to spend time with, chatting away about his impressions of everyone in the show, delighting Louis with a remarkably accurate rendition of Zayn’s pouting face and Ben’s disgruntled one. He’s clearly held on to those opinions and thoughts for a long time and now that there’s someone in the know, he’s babbling away saying Simon looks like an old grump and that Lux is the most adorable child he’s ever seen. Whatever suspicion Harry used to feel towards him seems to have melted away with the previous day to be replaced by a strange sense of camaraderie. Louis isn’t sure if it’s the little bits of themselves they shared that solidified the beginnings of their careful friendship, but he’s certainly not complaining. Not if it means Harry is smiling and teasing like this. It’s a complete contrast to the way he was behaving when he saw him for the first time and whether it’s the idea of a friend or the improved living conditions, or both… Louis doesn’t really care.

“I think you look hot,” Harry insists casually, leaning on his back and letting himself float.

He’s definitely planning something.

“I think I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“I could help, you know,” Harry offers and before Louis even has the chance to reply, Harry taps his tail against the water, splashing him thoroughly.

And there it is, the machiavellian plan: Louis is completely drenched, wide-eyed and mouth open in exaggerated outrage.

“You did not,” he says slowly, threateningly, but Harry just giggles instead of replying, clearly not intimidated by Louis’ reaction.

“You’re welcome,” Harry manages to say between the burst of laughter and Louis wishes he could be annoyed but it’s impossible when Harry has a face like that; open and happy.

“Befriending you was a mistake,” Louis teases, rolling his eyes and starting to unbutton the wet shirt. He tries not to feel too self-conscious as he feels Harry’s eyes following the movement of his fingers, watching him open the last button and shrugging the wet clothing off. He’s been shirtless in front of people before and he has no reason for the sudden shyness flaring in his belly. And yet, he feels exposed, on display. He crosses his arms over his chest, attempting to appear nonchalant.

“Might as well come swim with me,” Harry offers innocently, either not noticing Louis’ embarrassment or not caring about it.

“If you wanted company you could have just asked,” Louis replies.

“Come swim with me?” Harry says with a pout and fluttery eyelids.

It really shouldn’t work this efficiently, still Louis finds himself taking off his shoes and his braces as soon as Harry asks, jumping into the pool with a big splash, secretly hoping he got some in Swimmy’s face. Just because the pretty pout worked doesn’t mean he can’t get back at him after all.  He doesn’t even care if anyone on the site sees or hears. They’re mostly isolated anyway, the pool far enough from the caravans to give them both an illusion of privacy. Not to mention the fact that most of the artists and crew members are still terrified of Harry which means they’re mostly left alone. Ben and Simon sometimes lurk and stare from far away, but it never lasts very long and they haven’t approached the pool so far.

Louis emerges from the water, making a show of shaking his head like a dog. “Happy now?” he asks Harry, cocking his head to the right.

“Very,” Harry replies with a satisfied smile on his face.

“I bet I can hold my breath under the water longer than you,” Louis teases, even if he knows he’s setting himself up for a loss here.

Harry laughs for a second before his mouth transforms into an arrogant smirk.

“I don’t think so,” he replies confidently.

“Wanna bet?”

“If I win you have to eat some Krill,” Harry replies immediately and of course that little minx has noticed the way Louis’ face subtly falls whenever he has to touch them.

Louis wrinkle his nose, already knowing that whatever he agrees with right now he’ll automatically have to do later. There’s no way he can win this bet, but maybe, if he plays his cards right, he can bargain a little.

“I’ll eat the seaweed,” he offers, “but if I win-”

“That’s not going to happen,” Harry scoffs, swimming around Louis tauntingly. “But alright, I agree. It won’t be as satisfying as seeing you eating krill, but since you’ve already lost I suppose I can be nice.”

“If I win,” Louis repeats insistently, ignoring the burst of confidence, “you tell me more about where you come from.”

It’s a bit of a sneaky request, but Louis is still curious, more curious now that he’s started to get a glimpse of Harry’s fascinating existence.

“Deal,” Harry says with a huge grin, holding out his hand for Louis to shake.

Louis smiles at the gesture, letting his smaller hand be engulfed. “I didn’t know mermaids and mermen shook hands on deals.”

“We don’t,” Harry smirks,” but I’m a fast learner.”

Louis frowns and scrunches his nose. “Who have you seen making deals?” he asks teasingly, not taking his hand away yet.  “C’mon, give me the gossip.”

“Nobody,” Harry scoffs, letting go of Louis’ hand in a small caress. “You ready to be humiliated?”

“Arrogance is such an ugly trait Swimmy,” Louis replies. “But I am ready to prove you wrong!”

There’s no chance in hell Louis is going to win this. He knows it, Harry knows it, everyone on the show would know it if they were aware of the bet. Still, they’re having fun and teasing Harry is so satisfying.

“On three?” Louis asks.

Harry nods, smirk still firmly in place.

“One…. Two….”

“Three!” Harry yells and they both disappear under the water.

Louis tries to keep his eyes open at the beginning, tries to keep staring at Harry’s relaxed face but the water stings a bit and he has to close them after a few seconds. He has no idea how well he’s doing or how long they’ve been under, time seemingly suspended as he tries to hold on as long as possible. He just waits and waits, holding his breath until he feels like his head is going to explode. Then he waits some more, just to increase his chances, until he actually can’t stand it anymore and he has to kick his feet to swim back up to the surface, gasping for air desperately.

Harry, of course, hasn’t come back up again. He’s sitting at the bottom of the pool, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. Louis shakes his head and starts swimming back to the deck, sitting on it with his feet dangling in the water, waiting for his opponent’s return and still gasping.

Louis doesn’t count the seconds exactly, but it takes Harry about five minutes before swimming back up. When he does, he’s wearing that same happy smirk as before. He comes up to the deck slowly, putting both of his hand on it and surprising Louis by pushing himself out of the water and sitting on it, the bottom of his tail still swaying in the water.

Louis jumps a little when he sees him sitting but he schools his features into an angry stare rather than a surprised one.

“Cheater,” he says accusingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry doesn’t reply to the accusation. He simply chuckles and reaches for one of the seaweed jars.

“If you think I’m eating any of this after-” Louis starts saying, getting heated before he’s interrupted.

“We had a deal!” Harry protests. “We shook on it!”

“I don’t have deals with cheaters,” Louis says exaggeratedly, with a big pout and everything.  

“I did _not_ cheat,” Harry says, struggling with the jar for a second before it pops open. He offers it to Louis with his sweetest smile.

“What about these?” Louis asks, fingers reaching for Harry’s torso, tickling him right under the gills.

He shrieks loudly in response, body twisting into an “s” to try and escape the wandering digits. “I didn’t use them!” Harry tries to say between his giggles.

“Oh really?”

“I swear! I didn’t!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Stop it, Lou!”

“Not until you admit you cheated!” Louis says, leaning into Harry’s body, still tickling him.

“I did not! I held my breath just like you,” Harry insists, trying to push Louis away by shoving the open seaweed jar into his face.

“Ew!” Louis shrieks, closing his eyes and closing his mouth tightly, leaning backwards and away from Harry, finally letting him go.

“Hey,” Harry says disappointingly, “we had an agreement.”

“No,” Louis replies, shaking his head fiercely. “Don’t pout at me like this.”

“A gentlemen’s agreement,” Harry adds, his big green eyes sad as they stare into Louis’.

He sighs and shakes his head before agreeing with an eye roll. He’s being played right now, even worse he’s agreeing to it! But Harry’s looking sad and he did promise.

“I still think you cheated,” Louis says before opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out. “Go on then Swimmy,” he adds unintelligibly which makes Harry snorts.

Louis can see him reaching into the jar before cutting a small piece of seaweed and carefully putting it on Louis’ tongue. He hums, chewing carefully for a few seconds before swallowing and wrinkling his nose.

“Not too bad, I suppose. A bit salty, though,” Louis says once he’s done with the bite. “And I still think you cheated,” he adds for what feels like the hundredth time.

Harry smiles. “That’s because I did,” he admits with sparkly eyes before disappearing into the pool.

*

That night, as he’s walking back to his caravan to wait for the show to be over, he’s stopped by the sight of Simon Cowell leaning against his home, eyes fixed on his pocket watch and his bad leg crossed over the other.

“Mr. Cowell,” Louis says, announcing himself.

“Louis,” Simon replies too sweetly, putting the watch back into his waistcoat pocket. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Louis frowns, glancing towards his caravan. “Did you need anything?” he asks, tapping his index against his thigh nervously.

Simon laughs. “No need to be so defensive Mr. Tomlinson.”

“I’m not,” Louis scoffs. “I’m just curious about the purpose of your visit. You’re usually roaming the show at this time, are you not?”

“Yes,” Simon agrees easily. “I like to check up on everything, make sure things are going smoothly.

“Ah,” Louis nods, understanding. “Well, everything is going smoothly here,” he adds with a forced smile.

“The beast isn’t giving you too much trouble?” Simon asks and there it is again, that sneering expression on his face that Louis loathes more than anything, the condescending tone, the dismissal of Harry...

Louis shakes his head. “Strange how actual food and a living space larger than a coffin can change things,” he adds sarcastically.

Louis knows he shouldn’t keep antagonising the man, but he’s never been good at biting his tongue. Simon doesn’t even seem bothered by the insolence of Louis’ attitude, though. He just chuckles at the comment like it’s nothing but a joke like they aren’t talking about an actual person and his comfort and safety. It only makes Louis hate him more fiercely and he clenches his fists to stop his hands from shaking in anger.

‘I thought it was going well,” Simon replies. “You two seemed to be getting on and I’m glad to hear it confirmed. This is what we want of course, for it to trust you,” he adds as he straightens himself and steps away from Louis’ caravan.  

“I’m getting there,” Louis says, feeling his throat close up uncomfortably as he replies. It’s more than that, he thinks. Harry has started to see him as a friend now, someone who would never betray him.

“Well, faster would be better Mr. Tomlinson. I don’t think I need to remind you of all the things you’ve promised us and still haven’t delivered,” Simon says and he’s still smiling at Louis but he can hear the threat lying underneath. Simon nods at him before slowly starting to make his way back to the public site, leaning heavily on his cane as he limps away. “Good night Louis,” he calls merrily without looking back.

No, he certainly doesn’t need to remind Louis of anything.


	8. Chapter Seven

“Wow,” Louis says one day during lunch, eyeing the drawing Zayn has been working on for the past hour. He’s bent over an old notebook, tongue poking out of his mouth as he stares in concentration, adding little details here and there to an already incredible rendition.  
  
Louis knew Zayn was talented of course; he remembers the tarot cards and their intricate designs. This is different, though. It’s a portrait of Harry, his features captured perfectly, down to every strand of hair.  
  
“It’s gorgeous,” he adds and that makes Zayn look up.  
  
“Thank you,” he smiles shyly, before getting back to it.  
  
“Seriously,” Louis continues, ignoring the obvious signs that Zayn wants to be left alone, “you could be a proper artist.”  
  
“He does the posters for the show,” Niall says proudly, touching the back of Zayn’s neck and burying his fingers into his hair.  
  
“He did that? The scary picture of Ha-“ Louis stops himself in time, fumbling with his spoon for a second and trying his hardest not to blush. “Swimmy. The angry, toothy drawing?”  
  
Thankfully, neither Niall or Zayn seem to have noticed his hesitancy or the mistake. Zayn just shrugs in response, head finally fully out of his notebook.  
  
“S’what Simon asked for,” he admits casually. “He asked for scary… left me a lot of space for creativity.”  
  
“But it’s not true…” Louis protests weakly, thinking about kind, lovely Harry who couldn’t be further away from this portrayal. Kind, lovely Harry whose eyes sparkle when he talks about all the different types of life in the ocean, who can babble for hours about the games him and his sister used to play when they were younger. Kind, lovely Harry who likes to hum softly while he untangles his hair and thinks no one is watching him, who loves to splash Louis with water teasingly and who puts his hand on the little ones’ who press theirs on the glass of his tank because he knows it makes the children smile to be acknowledged by him.

“Truth doesn’t seem to sell,” Zayn replies like it’s that simple and for Simon it is.  
  
“But aren’t people disappointed? Isn’t it false advertisement to say he’s that way?” Louis argues because he can’t imagine someone coming to _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ hoping to see a monster being very happy with the sight of Harry. “When they finally come in and see a perfectly normal boy I mean… well, except for the tail,” he adds clumsily.  
  
Niall and Zayn share an amused look, Niall coughing in his wrist to hide a laugh.  
  
“Have you seen him?” Zayn asks, ripping the page of his drawing off and dangling it in front of Louis’ face. “Do you really think that’s a disappointing sight?”  
  
Louis feels his face melting embarrassingly fast as he looks at the various features of Harry’s face; his long nose and big lips; strong brows and a defined jaw; a piercing gaze framed by beautiful long brown hair. And that’s without taking the tail into consideration! Louis can’t imagine anyone being disappointed by this. He takes the drawing out of Zayn’s hand, letting his eyes roam freely.

He sighs wistfully. “I suppose not,” he replies, mostly to himself, still staring at Harry’s face. “He’s gorgeous.”

He looks up after a moment, handing back the drawing only to receive a grimace in response.

“Keep it,” Zayn says with an amused smirk.

“Oh no. I couldn’t,” Louis replies, feeling himself blush.

“You’re clearly fond of it,” Niall says teasingly.

Louis stiffens slightly, putting the drawing down on their table. “I’m fond of _him_ ,” he says pointedly, “and I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

“Nothing, of course,” Zayn says slowly, giving Niall a short look before focusing his deep brown eyes on Louis’. “You take care of him, why wouldn’t you be fond?”

“It’s -” Louis stops himself and gulps. He was about to say it’s more than that, but he’s not sure he could properly explain himself without betraying Harry’s trust, or embarrassing himself further.

“How is it going by the way?” Niall asks, happily diverting the conversation. “He seems happier?” he continues with an encouraging nod before taking a bite of an apple that seems to have appeared out of nowhere.

“How would you know?” Louis reply teasingly. “It’s not like you see all the time.”

“Oi! I hear things,” Niall says with a mouthful. “I’m very connected. Babe,” he insists, elbowing Zayn in the ribs, “tell Louis how connected I am.”

Zayn nods patiently. “The most,” he assures with a slow blink. “It’s the friendly innocent face,” he adds conspiratorially towards Louis. “Everyone trusts him straight away.”

“Not to mention the fact that unlike everyone else I actually get to walk around the site during the show and visit the tents! I saw him wave at a kid the other night. Before he’d just lie there like a corpse,” he says, offering his apple to Zayn, holding it in front of his mouth while he takes a bite.

Louis chuckles. "That's true," he admits with a shrug. "He started doing that about a week ago.... I guess it is going well. We're... friendly. And he does seem much happier now."

"You look pleased," Zayn comments.

"I came here to observe, that's all. I was curious. If I managed to improve things for him a bit along the way then... Yes, I'm pleased."

"What's going to happen when you go back?" Niall asks innocently and Louis' heart tightens in his chest at the question. "I mean," Niall starts saying when he sees Louis' face falling, "I'm sure it's going to be fine."

"Yeah," Louis replies absently. "I'm sure."

That night, Louis hangs Harry's portrait next to his bed, feeling already a bit more at home just by doing so. What is going to happen to Swimmy once Louis has to go back to Oxford? Are they going to continue caring for him the way Louis has been for the past few weeks? Or will they go back to their barbaric ways? He hasn't even thought about it, too wrapped up in his friendship with Harry, in his research and discoveries. He hasn't even spared a second thought for the passing days, each one bringing him closer to the moment where he'll have to go back to teaching and leave Harry behind.

Louis strokes Harry's cheek on the drawing, kneeling on his bed. There's no dimples, no smile on the portrait, just a stern observing face, and why would there be? It's not like many people have seen Harry smile on the site. It's not like there are many people he's trusted with that. Except Louis and the children, that is. He sighs sadly, shaking his head and lying down on the bed before blowing out the candle on his nightstand.

The next morning, when he wakes up, Louis resolves himself not to worry, or think, about it yet. His departure is still weeks away. He has time to figure things out for Harry until then.

*

A few nights later, Louis is startled awake by the sound of anxious voices coming from outside. At first, he feels slightly disoriented, like maybe he's still dreaming and the shouting is coming from a twisted vision he’s imagined, but it quickly becomes clear that he hasn’t made anything up. The noises are actually coming from right outside his door. He rubs his eyes quickly, yawning as he gets out of bed and puts some trousers on to go investigate what all the commotion is about. Once he's clothed, Louis opens his door and takes in the scene in front of him.

The voices are coming from Lou and a few other artists, scattered between the caravans and frantically looking around like they’re searching for something. Lou is clearly distressed, tears tracks on her face as she quickly talks with Mark in a desperate voice, her fingers tightly wrapped around his large arm. She's speaking so fast Louis can't understand a single thing, despite the fact she’s the one closest to his door. He’s noisy enough that he wants to know what is happening, but not rude to the point of disturbing her private conversation. Especially when she’s clearly feeling so upset. Instead, he lowers his head and makes himself discreet, walking towards Liam’s figure.

"What's happening?" he asks once he's jogged to where Liam is crouched to the ground and looking underneath the caravan next to Louis'.

"Louis?" Liam calls from underneath before he crawls backwards and gets his head out.

"Yeah, it's me. What's going on? I heard shouting?"

"Lou's lost Lux," Liam replies with a pained expression on his face.

Louis' mouth opens in shock. "What?" he asks, looking back towards the crowd of people, their agitated movements suddenly making a lot more sense.

Liam takes the time getting up before answering. "She woke up about ten minutes ago and Lux wasn't in her bed. She says she's looked for her everywhere."

"Oh my god," Louis replies, glancing back towards Lou's distressed face. He hadn't noticed before but she's clearly shaking, looking small under Mark's comforting arm.

"She's probably alright," Liam says reassuringly, his voice low and soothing into the night. He’s the only one who seems focused on the task at hand, rather than panicked and desperate. "The site is huge, there are so many places where she could be hiding."

"Has somebody checked the artists' tents?" Louis asks, the image of her small body pressed against Harry’s tank flashing through his mind.

Liam nods. "Yeah, but Nelson would have seen her cross to the other side," he replies, referring to one of the imposing men who guards the passage between the two areas of the show.

Louis frowns and shakes his head, feeling like the answer is on the tip of his tongue but his sleep-muddled brain can’t quite access it.

"The thing is, even though we know she's in here somewhere... there's so much dangerous equipment all over, I don't blame Lou for being freaked out," Liam whispers with a grimace. "And Lux is such a good kid, she never runs away."

Louis startles at the comment, "But -" he starts saying, about to reveal the fact that he's seen her wandering about multiple times before interrupting himself. "Oh, I am an idiot," he says instead, rolling his eyes. "Of course, she's not near the tents!" he exclaims, turning around and running towards Lou who is now being cuddled not only by Mark but also Zayn and Niall.

"Louis," Niall says seriously, looking paler than usual in the darkness.

"I know where Lux is!" Louis exclaims. He feels rather foolish for taking so long to connect the dots.

"What?' Lou says, untangling herself from her friends and grabbing Louis' shoulder firmly, her long nails digging into his bare flesh. "You do?"

Louis nods. "She's with Swimmy."

Lou gasps, putting her other hand on her mouth as her eyes widen. "With the beast?" she asks, pale-faced and shaken.

"It's fine," Louis replies, having to consciously stop himself from rolling his eyes, "I promise."

But Lou isn't listening. She's already running towards the pool and Louis sighs loudly before following after her.

"Wait!" Zayn says before following them as well, dragging Niall forcefully with him.

"Lou," Louis calls, loud and exasperated. "Please, don't worry," he adds in a whisper mostly to himself.

She ignores him again, climbing the stairs to the deck in an instant instead of answering him. Louis is quick to follow and the sight he's met with when he finally reaches the deck warms his heart. Even Lou is frozen in place, unsure how to proceed as she watches her daughter babbling happily while she carefully braids Harry's hair. She's sitting on the deck, her legs dangling on either side of Harry's shoulder, both of her hands in his hair as she messily tries to replicate movements she’s probably seen Lou do a thousand times. It's obviously not what Lou was expecting and she's just staring at them silently with a confused look on her face.

"Baby," Lou finally whispers, reaching a hand towards her daughter's head and giving Harry an uncomfortable look. "What are you doing?"

"Mama!" Lux says happily, letting go of Harry's hair and getting up to hug her mother. "We were telling each other stories," she adds when Lou picks her up, snuggling automatically into her mother’s arms.

"Stories?" Lou repeats in a slow voice.

"Yes, Swimmy was telling me stories about his mama."

Lou chuckles awkwardly, tightening her grip on her daughter and giving Harry an unconvinced glare that makes him stiffen before he disappears back into the water silently. "That's silly baby," Lou replies, turning away from the pool and looking at Louis. "The merman can't talk."

"Yes he can mama," Lux insists sleepily in her mother's neck. "He's really funny and he's my friend."

Lou gulps at the word friend and her face becomes determined. "Well, next time you go see your friend you gotta ask, alright Miss? You really scared me, so no more walking away in the middle of the night for you."

"No," Lux replies adorably, shaking her head with a big loud yawn.

Lou gives him a slightly annoyed look and Louis blushes when he realises that he's blocking the stairs for them. He really wants to stay and talk to Harry, but there's no way he's getting away without explaining how he knew where Lux was. Lou's face is too determined for that and it feels like more than half of the entire show is waiting for them near the pool. Talking to Harry in private tonight is not going to happen, no matter how much he wants to.

It's only when they're back on the ground and start walking away from the stairs that Lou finally asks.

"How did you know?"

Zayn and Niall are also looking at him expectantly, the whole crew is, and Louis shrugs uncomfortably.

"They're friends," he chuckles awkwardly. "What child doesn't want to be friends with a mermaid? I mean, merman."

He shrugs at Lou again when she gives him an unconvinced look.

"But you asked about the tents first," Liam argues and Louis doesn't know where he comes from or when he followed them but he can’t help but feel like that’s a rather unfortunate development, if only for that comment.

He sighs, giving Liam a dirty look before replying. "I've seen her with him before," he’s forced to admit.

"What?" Niall asks. "Lou, you let her see him?" he adds like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard and Louis is offended on Harry's behalf.

"No," Lou protests in a whisper, careful not to bother Lux who is quickly starting to fall asleep. "Don't be stupid."

This is offensive, Louis is offended.

"Well, it's not like he's dangerous," he argues defensively. "They were just playing."

"Tell that to Simon's leg!" Lou replies, her voice shaking with barely concealed anger. "I can't believe you've seen them together."

"Well," Louis starts babbling, unsure how he's supposed to defend himself, "I didn't think it was a big deal? She'd go in his tent and stare at the tank... Like all the children do?"

Lou looks properly shocked. "She would?"

Louis nods slowly. "Yeah... It," he smiles, slow, soft, "it was the only moments I'd see Swimmy smile before we got the pool. He loves children, he wouldn't hurt her."

"How can you know for sure?" Lou asks, passing a protective hand through her sleeping daughter's hair.

"I know you're all terrified of him and I get it, he's a wild animal," Louis says, feeling a little sick using those words to describe his friend.

"He is," a voice calls from Louis’ left and he really wishes there wasn’t such a crowd present for this.

"So is a dog!" Louis replies angrily, hating himself even more for the comparison. "Look, all I'm saying is I don't think he would hurt someone, especially not a child, just like that. Come on Lou, you saw him. Did he look like he was about to hurt Lux?"

She looks pensive for a second before shaking her head. "I suppose not.”

“Doesn’t mean we can trust it!” one of the crew members, a tall bald man with a massive moustache interrupts, folding his arms across his imposing torso.

“You weren’t even there,” Louis argues, taking a step towards the man. “You didn’t even see them together,” he adds, pointing towards Lux.

“I don’t need to,” the man sneers, towering over Louis and that just irritates him even further; the mixture of willful ignorance and contempt.

He takes another step forward and looks up angrily at that beast of a man, seeing Niall’s eyes widen and Zayn shaking his head in the corner of his eyes.

“Do you always make assumptions about shit you don’t know,” Louis asks in his best posh voice and he hears Zayn’s warning “no” somewhere on his side but he decides to ignore it. “Or is it just when the merman is concerned that you act like a big fat idiot?” he adds, hot-headed and provoking.

“You fucking-” the man starts saying, reaching for Louis’ collar before Lou interrupts him.

“Charles!” she calls, reprimanding and motherly. She gives a pointed look to where Lux is sleeping in her arms and the man seems to deflate. “Louis is right; that…. thing really wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Louis smiles and opens his mouth, getting ready to gloat but Lou turns her head towards him, still looking visibly upset.

“And you,” she says angrily, “it doesn't mean I want my daughter hanging out near a creature we know nothing about and a body of water in the middle of the night!" she scolds.

"Of course not,” Louis replies, ignoring Charles’ angry stares. “It’s dangerous, I get that. And I'm sorry, I should have told you about seeing her with Ha- Swimmy before. I honestly thought you knew about it and that it wasn't a big deal. But I am sorry."

Lou sighs, taking a long strand of blond hair out of her face. "I'm not angry at you Louis, quite the opposite. If it weren't for you, we would still be looking for her. I.... It would never have occurred to me."

She looks shocked at the thought like she’s only now realising that she would have never thought of it; like she’s only now realising how unaware she was, how much there is she doesn’t know about her own daughter.

"You're... welcome," Louis says hesitantly, a bit surprised. He was expecting more of a screaming match than this if he’s completely honest with himself, but he’s certainly not complaining.

“Alright then, show’s over everyone!” Niall calls loudly. “Get your lazy arses back to bed.”

A few artists chuckle at Niall’s display, most of them already following his orders and walking back to their tents.

Charles doesn’t move for a while, staring at Louis like he wants to start arguing again, but one of his mates grabs his shoulder and whispers “come on” to him, giving Louis a dismissive look. Charles inhales loudly then nods, turning around to walk back to his caravan. The few people left follow his lead and leave, not before giving curious and judging looks towards Louis.

He’s the odd man out, Louis knows that. He’s only been with the show for a couple of weeks and he takes care of the creature they’ve all learned to fear. He’s the intruder. It didn’t seem to matter as much when he was just silently doing his job without interfering with the little family they’ve established for themselves here, but now…

“Don’t worry about them,” Niall says as they watch them leave.

“I’m not worried,” Louis replies and it’s not even a lie. He’s not worried for himself but for Harry. He doesn’t have a lot of allies on the show and he certainly can’t afford to have more enemies.

“Charles likes to think he’s important, but he’s not. He’s angry all the time but if you ignore him, he’ll ignore you right back,” Niall continues.

“He’s not gonna talk to Simon about Swimmy, right?” Louis asks. “Like… he wouldn’t complain about him?”

Niall snorts. “Even if he did, what is Simon gonna do? Get rid of his most popular attraction just because one of his crew guys doesn’t like him? Please, Charles wouldn’t even try.”

“He’d get laughed at and he knows it,” Zayn adds.

It makes sense, of course. Simon Cowell hates Harry more than anyone one this show, more than everyone combined probably, yet he still makes sure he’s shown every night, he still keeps him around. If his own dislike doesn’t change the situation, Louis could hardly imagine anyone else’s might.

“You’re probably right,” Louis replies. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s alright, it’s your job to make sure he’s okay, yeah?” Zayn says softly. He reaches for Niall’s hand in the dark, tangling their fingers together. “Let’s go back to bed love,” he whispers.

Niall nods, before raising an eyebrow at Louis, inviting him to walk alongside them.

Louis shakes his head. “I’m going to check on my protegé,” he says with a laugh. “Make sure he’s alright.”

“As you wish. Liam?”

“I’m coming,” he says, waving towards Louis. “Good night.”

“Night Lads,” Louis nods before turning back around and jogging towards the pool.

He could let it go until the morning, of course, he could, but there is an itch inside of him to talk to Harry, to make sure he’s feeling alright after what happened with Lou. She wasn’t rude towards him but she wasn’t overtly friendly either and the thought of Harry alone in this tiny pool feeling hurt all night is simply unbearable.

Once he’s climbed on the deck, though, it becomes quite clear that it is not the case. Harry is curled up on himself at the bottom, head pillowed on his arms and his features relaxed. He's asleep, the peaceful rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic, making Louis stop and stare for longer than he’d like to admit. He’s never seen Harry sleeping before, has never really thought about it. It seems silly for Louis to be surprised but he is. And of course, Harry sleeps, he must, but it’s the first time Louis gets to witness it. It doesn’t look any different than when he used to sneak into his little sisters’ nurseries in the middle of the night to make sure they were still breathing; the same quietude and comfort; the same fondness growing in his heart and tinting his cheeks red.

Harry’s hair is still in Lux' braid, resting prettily on his shoulder and Louis gets the impulsive desire to mess it up, to run his fingers through the hair until it's wild and free again just so he get the opportunity to try and braid it himself. He's not sure where the impulse is coming from, but it's so strong he has to shake his head to stop himself from throwing a rock into the water to try and wake Harry up. It's completely ridiculous, beyond silly, and Louis blushes just at the thought.

He needs to control himself.

Besides, he'd never wake Harry up, especially not when he looks so peaceful like this. It would be a crime to do so and no matter how much he wants to tease him about his friendship with Lux and no matter how much he wants to ask how long those midnight rendezvous have been going on, he can't. Or at least, he can't right now.

So he stares creepily for a few more minutes before shaking his head, sighing and going to bed. It can wait until tomorrow after all.

  
*

"Is it true?" Niall asks the next day, grabbing Louis' arm and dragging him into the kitchen tent.

Louis, having just come back from a nice morning spent talking with Harry, simply stares at him in confusion. "What?" he asks as he joins the queue to grab his lunch. “And you really have to stop doing that,” he adds, widening his eyes and looking down at where Niall is still holding his arms tightly.

He sighs loudly in response, giving Zayn and Liam an exasperated look before repeating his question, completely ignoring Louis’ comment.

"Listen Ni,” Louis says, trying not to sound too exasperated, “I have no idea what you're talking about here so either elaborate or let me eat in peace, yeah?"

Niall looks offended for a second and Zayn puts a hand on his shoulder, giving him a warning look before answering in his place.

"What Lou said? Is it true?" he asks and Louis' heart skips a beat.

"What Lou said?" he repeats, feeling a tiny spark of anxiety blossoming in his chest.

Whatever it is that she might have shared about the few seconds she spent with Harry can't be good if the looks of pure excitement and nervosity on Liam, Zayn and Niall's faces are to be trusted. He thought for sure after their awkward public conversation that nothing bad was going to happen, that she wouldn’t have anything else to add and yet...

"Yeah, she's been talking about Lux and Swimmy at breakfast," Liam explains and he looks a bit calmer than the others, but still eager to know.

The queue moves a little and Louis gets distracted as he grabs his food, smiling warmly at the lady handing him a bowl.

"Well, that doesn't surprise me," he finally replies when they've all been served and they start moving to look for a table. "I mean, her child did befriend a strange and magical creature of legends behind her back. I'd be talking about it too."

"No, not that!" Niall protests as he drops himself into his seat dramatically. "She said Lux said he can talk!"

And this is what Louis was afraid of. By now, the whole show is probably already gossiping about it. Simon is probably already gossiping about it.

"Who has she been talking to?" Louis asks abruptly, the instinct to protect Harry now stronger than ever.

Niall and Zayn share a confused look. "Nobody," Zayn says slowly, "just us. Why?"

"Is it true?" Liam asks and he, more than anyone, can't know the truth.

Louis doesn't want to imagine what Simon or Ben would do with that information. If they knew the truth, what kind of ridiculous tricks they'd push him to show Harry? What kind of stupid expectations would they have for him? They're already pressuring him to get Harry to do more - smile more and wave more and make grimaces to the delight of children all around. There's no way Harry could get away with not speaking during the show if they discover the truth about him. And he's made it quite clear he has no interest in doing so, has said time and time again that Louis is the only one who knows and how much he wishes for it to remain that way. They simply can't know the truth. Liam especially.

"Don't be ridiculous," Louis replies sternly, hoping the lie doesn't show on his face.

"I told you," Zayn whispers to Niall before taking a huge bite of his meal.

"But Lux said!" Niall insists, giving Louis a disappointed pout.

"Lux is five," Zayn argues with his mouth full.

"Exactly!" Louis says, jumping on the occasion. "Lux is five years old! She probably dreamed or imagined the whole thing!" he continues insistently. He sounds desperate, he knows, but he is. He’s very desperate to protect Harry’s secret, just like he promised he would. "There is no way that Harry can talk. That's just ridiculous."

Louis doesn't even realise his mistake. He just keeps going on and on about how she's been speaking to him while he was in the tank and there is no way that he could have answered, even if he hypothetically could speak their language. After all the glass wouldn't make it possible so she must have made the whole thing up. He just babbles on until he realises that the table is way too quiet and that they are all staring at him with shocked expressions on their faces.

"What?" Louis asks with an awkward chuckle. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Harry," Zayn says slowly.

"What about him?" Louis replies, still not understanding.

"How... How do you know he's named Harry?" Liam asks and Niall nods, head moving up and down quickly.

"I..." Louis opens his mouth and closes it before shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

What has he done?

"I don't know that he is!” Louis says, trying to keep the panic at bay. He can still get out of this. “It's... a nickname, like yours," he finally adds, looking desperately at Niall. "Just like Swimmy!"

"It's not the first time you've called him that," Zayn says, looking pensive. "You've stopped yourself before but..."

"Don't," Louis replies, closing his eyes. "I didn't."

Liam gasps. "You have talked to him!"

"No!"

"Yes," Liam insists. "You have. All this time, you said you were befriending him... you really meant it."

“Oh my god!” Niall gasps, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Please," Louis whispers, looking over his shoulder nervously. "Shut up."

“But-”

Louis growls, without even meaning to. Niall’s eyes widen at the sound and he quickly closes his mouth.

“So,” Zayn whispers, looking around to make sure he’s discreet enough and he’s Louis’ favourite. “It is true, he can talk. He speaks English.”

They’re all looking at him expectantly, wide-eyed and excited, and Louis feels sick as he nods, closing his eyes and trying to pretend like this is not happening. They already know anyway, thanks to his massive screw up, what’s the point of him continuing to lie?

“Oh my god,” Niall repeats in a whisper, a huge grin on his face.

“Please don’t say anything,” Louis begs, eyes still closed, embarrassed beyond belief that he allowed himself to slip up like this.

He opens his eyes to see them all looking confused.

"I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone," Louis explains, trying his best not to look like he's staring only at Liam.

"This is crazy," Niall says. "He really talks? For real?"

If Louis weren't so worried about Harry's well-being he'd find the excitement adorable. After all, he was the same way when he first saw Harry, when he first heard him.... He was giddy and overwhelmed, shocked but also impressed. And now it's Niall, Zayn and Liam going through each of these emotions, their faces reflecting all those feelings clearly. Louis can't exactly blame them, not without the feeling of being the biggest hypocrite on planet Earth attached to it, so he doesn't. He just shakes his head, then nods again, trying to get through the moment without making more mistakes.

"Yeah, for real," he admits in a low voice.

"That's amazing," Zayn replies, giving Niall a happy look.

"Yeah," Louis laughs, passing a nervous hand through his hair. "He really is."

"How long have you known?" Liam asks and he's not looking at Louis suspiciously exactly, but there's something in his eyes that Louis doesn't like.

"A while," he replies carefully, staring straight into Liam's eyes, unwilling to be intimidated.

"And you haven't told anyone?" Liam insists, frowning as the question comes out of his mouth.

He's going to tell them, Louis thinks, heart clenching painfully in his chest. He's going to tell Simon, he's going to tell Ben.... Liam is going to ruin everything and Louis can't let that happen. Certainly not because of him.

"He asked me not to," Louis says. "You said so yourself," he continues, trying to appeal to Liam's emotional side, "that the way he was being treated was wrong. I think he's just afraid if anyone else knows things are going to get worse for him. I had to respect his wishes."

"Poor creature," Niall says while pushing his food around without eating any, looking suddenly disheartened by the whole situation.

"I don't blame him at all," Zayn adds, hiding his face in his bowl of food, his voice shaky and a bit emotional.

They’re clearly both affected by this and it reassures Louis a little to know at least Niall and Zayn are on his, on Harry’s, side.

"But-" Liam starts and Louis refuses to stand there and listen to some propaganda and lies about how it's in the best interest of the show for him to be honest with Simon and Ben.

"I take care of him," Louis declares fiercely, interrupting Liam without a care. "That's my job. And protecting him is my priority. He makes them money, yes, but that doesn't mean they have the rights to his soul! When he asked for my discretion I was happy to promise it to him and I'm really hoping all of you will agree with me on this."

"You think they'd want to hurt him if they knew?" Niall asks and he doesn't sound incredulous or surprised at the assumption, just sad, resigned, and it makes Louis ache for all them.

How can they stand it here? How can they stand to smile and laugh and play along every night for a man they all know would be capable of the worst if it would be beneficial to him? Who would sell them out, abandon them, without a second glance if there was more money to be made at the end of it. It's their home, Louis supposes, but at what cost?

"I think if there was an opportunity for him to make more money he wouldn't hesitate to take it. And I know it would break Harry's heart."

Zayn scoffs. "Simon would make him do something stupid like sing a silly song or have him interact with people, even if he doesn't want to. It's not like he cares about what we want," he says bitterly.

Niall gives Louis a sad look before wrapping an arm around Zayn and rubbing the side of his waist with his thumb.

"Do you know he makes me do a silly accent," Zayn says angrily. "Well, he doesn't make me, but he strongly suggests. Looks weirder and more foreign apparently... People pay for that," he adds resentfully. "Like my people's a joke or something."

Louis gulps. "I'm sorry," he says sadly, feeling his heart break for Zayn, for Harry. For all of them. "I had no idea."

Zayn smiles bitterly. "It's our job," he says with a fake cheerful voice. "We're fed with a roof over heads, who are we to complain?" He shakes his head for a second. "If Simon hears about Harry from someone I can promise you it won't be from me."

"Thank you, Zayn. It means a lot to me and to him too."

"Yeah, don't worry about it mate," Niall adds solemnly. "We got your back. Didn't spill your secret when you got the job, we certainly won't spill this one now, yeah?"

"Thanks mate," Louis chuckles before turning a hesitant face towards Liam.

He hasn't said anything in so long, his face looking stern and uncomfortable.

"Liam, please don't say anything. Harry is being so lucrative already.... They don't need to know, right?"

Liam hesitates for a second and he opens his mouth to say something before shaking his head and nodding, looking reluctant but still agreeing.

"Yeah?" Louis insists. "You won't tell?"

"No," Liam replies before grabbing his bowl and leaving the table without a second glance.

Louis' eyes widen and he's about to follow him out when he feels someone grabbing his wrist and forcing him back down.

"Don't," Niall says with a small headshake. "He won't tell."

"But-"

"Seriously. I know you think he's just Simon and Ben's right-hand man, but Liam is a good person. He knows what would happen if he said anything."

"I know he's a good person, that's been obvious from the start. But good people still make mistakes or trust the wrong instincts," Louis argues, nervously tapping his finger on the table.

“He said he wouldn’t,” Niall insists. "Just trust him, trust that."

And so he does.

*

 

Louis’ plan to trust Liam lasts less than twenty-four hours which is why he finds himself awake at an ungodly hour the next morning, in the hope of catching Liam before his morning run to the market. He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be awake worrying, but he’s spent too many hours being haunted by Liam’s face when he learned the truth about Harry yesterday and has gone over their conversation obsessively too many times not to reach out to him and make sure everything is alright.

Despite Niall’s reassurance that Liam would do nothing of the sort, Louis can’t help feeling sick at the thought that Simon might already know everything about Harry, that Liam might have already betrayed them both. He’s already broken Harry’s trust and nothing he can do or say can erase that fact. If Simon is already making plans for Harry’s new show then it’s on Louis and Louis alone. He’s the one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and if it’s too late and Liam has already told them everything… Louis shakes his head, refusing to go down this path again. He’s just nervous. No matter how genuinely caring Liam has appeared to be in the past, how genuinely conflicted about Harry’s treatment, Louis just can’t find it in himself to let this go. The what ifs have comfortably settled in his brain, nasty anxiety-ridden thoughts that snickers as they remind him that if Liam has already faltered, Louis is the sole person to blame. He can’t afford not to check on Liam, even if it might only confirm his biggest fear.

Once he’s dressed, Louis gets out of his caravan with a yawn, ready to find Liam to accompany him to the market. It might be too late, he might have waited too long to try and plead his - Harry’s - case. But he has to try. Besides, it’s about time he does some of the nasty work. So far he’s only had to go and entertain Harry during the day, has spent hours talking and laughing with him. He can’t really say it’s been much of a hardship and would hardly call it a job. After dealing with mocking students for years, Louis would mostly call his time with Harry a holiday, the loveliest holiday he’s ever had. It’s time for him to do some of the dirty work and that includes waking up early to visit the market and confronting a coworker about his behaviour. It would be exciting if Louis weren’t so anxious and worried.

“Liam!” he calls out when he sees his figure walking in the distance and he feels a bit relieved that he, at least, hasn’t missed him.

Liam stops in his tracks, turning around and giving Louis a surprised look. He waves, smiling awkwardly but not starting to move again, giving Louis the opportunity to catch up with him.

“Hey, morning,” Louis grunts, his voice rough in the early hours of the day. He clears his throat, putting his hands nonchalantly in his pockets.

Liam licks his bottom lips, giving him a nod and a confused smile. “Hey,” he still replies happily. “I’m… surprised to see you. Up.”

Louis shrugs like it’s not a big deal like it’s not part of a bigger, more complicated plan.

“I thought I could come with you this morning, see this famous market that provides Swimmy’s food so faithfully,” he explains, wrapping a friendly arm around Liam’s shoulder and starting to drag him towards the exit.

“Are we walking there?” Louis continues, eyeing one of the carriages near the back door. “Or…?”

Liam still looks confused but he shakes his head in response. “No, no, no. We don’t need those. They’re only for the big deliveries we really aren’t buying enough to justify using one. Besides, it’s only a ten minutes walk. It’s a great to wake up.”

Louis grimaces, looking at the ground to try and hide it. “I bet,” he replies sarcastically. “Well, alright then. Lead the way.”

And so Liam does. For about three minutes they walk in agreeable silence, only interrupted by the sound of Louis yawning once in awhile.

“You’re really coming with me?” Liam ends up asking.

Louis chuckles. “Evidently,” he replies with a smirk.

“Why?”

“I told you, I-”

“No,” Liam interrupts. “Why?” he repeats and there’s something in his eyes that tells Louis he already knows.

He sighs deeply before answering.

“I’m worried,” he admits with a small laugh, gaze dropping to his boots. “You know a big secret about Harry now. A secret he asked me not to tell and if Simon-”

“I told you I wouldn’t say anything,” Liam replies and he sounds offended, his eyebrows furrowed in anger but a sad, hurt, expression in his eyes.

“Yes, you did, but he still sent you to work as my assistant to spy on me and Harry. Where does that leave me? How do I fully trust you?”

It’s the first time either of them has acknowledged it out loud. Liam doesn’t react though and he certainly doesn’t defend himself.

“Maybe that’s the case,” Liam finally admits after a few awkward seconds of silence. He’s speaking slowly, careful in his word choices. “But it doesn’t mean I’ve lost all sense of right or wrong!”

Louis scoffs as they turn left on a new street.

“Right,” he says sarcastically. “You seemed to have a great sense of right or wrong when you let Ben torture him while you washed his tank! Great morals of course! How silly of me to think that you might choose loyalty to your boss rather than keeping some almost stranger’s secret.”

Louis passes a nervous hand through his hair, fidgeting with a couple of strands to try and make sure they are perfectly in place, worried maybe he’s said too much, maybe his little outburst will make Liam change his mind.

Liam closes his eyes for a second before speaking. He doesn’t look as hurt as before, more resigned than anything else actually.

“It didn’t cross your mind that maybe the fact that I used to participate in those horrible things is exactly the reason why I don’t want to say anything now? Because I’ve caused enough…. trauma for that poor thing for a lifetime and I don’t want to be responsible for more?”

“He’s not a thing and his name is Harry.”

“Right. Well, I know I’ve hurt Harry and I don’t particularly fancy doing it again, Now that I’ve realised he’s more than a fish without feelings, I couldn’t anyway. So, please give me some credit!” Liam finishes angrily just as they arrive at the market.

Louis gulps, stopping before they start walking through the stalls.

“Can you blame me for not fully trusting you?” he asks pointedly.

Liam’s face falls for a second. He shakes his head. “I suppose not. You have his best interests at heart after all.”

“I do,” Louis confirms fiercely, even if he knows he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t blame you for being suspicious or protective, but can you maybe give me a second chance to prove I have his best interests at heart too? Because I do now. I promise.”

Louis inhales slowly, thinking back to Liam’s guilty face when he came to apologize, that one morning weeks ago, thinking back to every morning he’s woken at the crack of dawn to buy Harry food with a smile, no complaints on his lips, just a genuine desire to help. Yes, Louis supposes he can start to carefully trust him now.

“Alright, yes. I can do that,” Louis replies, holding his hand out for Liam to shake. “Sorry I jumped to conclusions before,” he adds once their hands are clasped together.

“It’s okay,” Liam says happily, a bit giddy as he holds Louis’ hand a bit too hard. “I get it. And I won’t tell. I swear.”

“I know,” Louis laughs. “Can I have my hand back now?”

“Oh,” Liam says, eyes widening. “Of course, sorry.”

“It’s fine, why don’t you show me around?”

It’s a lot busier than Louis expected. Somehow, he was under the naive impression that the place would be empty, just a couple of sad looking vendors and a few tired customers, but it is quite the opposite. The market is buzzing with activity, people pushing at each other to get the stall first, every little table neatly arranged in rows and rows of products. To Louis’ surprise there’s more than fish being sold here, even if it seems to be what the majority of vendors are offering, the salty ocean smell of their products strong and overpowering through the entire market.

“It’s crowded,” Louis whispers in Liam’s ears as they make their way through the sea of people.

“Well, what did you expect?” Liam asks with a laugh, stopping at one of the stalls and giving the man behind it a friendly smile.

“Mr. Payne!” the vendor says happily. “The usual?” he asks, pointing at a box filled with oysters.

Evidently, this is one of his usual stops.

“Yes, please,” Liam says before turning expectantly towards Louis. “What did you expect?” he repeats.

“I don’t know,” Louis replies, feeling a bit foolish. “I’ve never really been into a market before,” he adds, feeling a bit like Humphrey did that first night at the show; young, impressed and foolish.

“You’re kidding me?” Liam replies, eyes widening in shock.

For a second there Louis forgot Liam doesn’t actually know anything about Louis’ circumstances. He wasn’t one of the men he met back when Louis was merely a spectator of the show, he doesn’t know about Oxford, about the Estate.

"It... just never happened, it's not a big deal," Louis replies, taking the wrapped up oysters from the vendor and letting Liam pay. "Thank you, sir," he adds with a smile.

"You have got to be winding me up, though," Liam argues as they keep on walking. "Who has never gone to a market?"

"My sisters used to go for me," Louis lies, figuring it's a plausible enough explanation.

"That's..." Liam shakes his head. "Alright then, it's bizarre but I suppose so are you."

"Are you calling me weird?" Louis says with a laugh. It certainly isn't the first time and he doubts it will be the last but there's something about the nice tone of Liam's voice that's more endearing than insulting.

"I didn't mean it in a nasty way," Liam replies quickly, grabbing Louis' shoulder.

"Liam, mate. Don't worry about it. I definitely am."

"Oh, well. Then, yes. I am calling you weird,” Liam confirms cheekily. “It’s not true, isn’t it?” he asks straight away, dropping the teasing smile.

“What’s not true?” Louis says as he lowers his head to avoid being hit by a tall man’s basket.

“Your sisters shopping for you. You’re trying to protect that secret Niall mentioned, right?”

Louis opens his mouth to reply but Liam shakes his head.

“It’s fine. It’s not my business, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m a professor,” Louis admits in a whisper. “At Oxford. My parents…” he clears his throat. “We had servants going to the market for us.”

“Oh,” Liam says, looking surprised for a second. “So, you’re just the curious type then? Seeing how the lowlifes live?” he chuckles awkwardly.

“I am the curious type,” Louis says seriously, frowning slightly, “but I don’t think you’re lowlifes. Not at all. I mean, some of you are frauds obviously, but I’m one too now. Who am I to judge?”

“Fair enough.”

“I take that back,” Louis says quickly. “I’m judging Winston for being an arse. And you can absolutely report that back to him by the way.”

Liam snorts.

“Without the part about me and Oxford, of course!” Louis adds, feeling suddenly worried.

“Since we want to keep you alive, I won’t say any of it.”

“Yeah,” Louis says slowly, “on second thoughts that might be best.”

Liam shakes his head. “Well, Mr. Curious, welcome to your first market. Yes, it’s crowded and yes it’s always like that.”

Louis smiles, looking around happily. "Wow, I didn't know I was sending you to war every day, sorry Liam," he says, as he makes his way between two intense women who keeps trying to push him around. "You'd think people would be more civilised," he adds loudly just for the satisfaction of seeing the women gasp, offended at the mere suggestion they might have behaved poorly.

"It's alright, I like it," Liam says, approaching the second stall. "Hey Henry," he calls, waving at an old man surrounded by boxes of crustaceans. "I'll take a bit of that krill please."

"Coming straight away," Henry says as he starts picking some up.

"Well, I get why you would like it," Louis says as they wait. "It's as busy as the freak show."

Liam chuckles, reaching in his pockets for a few coins. "I suppose that's true, I like keeping myself busy. The show definitely offers that."

"I feel like you do everything there; cleaning, shopping, building... Aren't they taking advantage of your multitude of talents?"

Liam shrugs. "Nah, I like it. I like working with my hands, I like fixing things. It's not a perfect place and it's true Simon and Ben can be difficult..."

Louis scoffs. "That's one way of putting it."

"It's our family, though. It's home."

"I guess I can understand that," Louis replies, although he’s not sure if that’s actually true. He can understand the sense of belonging, the desire to have a place to call your own… Excusing those awful people’s behaviour, though. That’s the part he finds himself struggling with. Then again, who is Louis to judge?

"Here you go," Henry says, handing them the package and Liam takes it straight away, putting it into a basket Louis is convinced has simply appeared out of thin air, but since his knowledge of the market is rather limited, he chooses not to question it.

“Where to next?” Louis asks and Liam points to a stall a little further away.

As they make their way to their last stop, Louis notices a small stall, managed by an even smaller girl and he stops to stare at the colourful flowers she’s selling.

“I’ll meet you later, alright?” he tells Liam before heading straight to the young girl. He’s not sure where the impulses come from, but he just needs to take a closer look.

“Hiya,” Louis waves once he’s finally reached the flower girl. Now that he’s taking a closer look, Louis notices that she’s standing on top of a box in order to be able to see over her table.

“Hi,” she replies shyly.

“Those are pretty,” he points towards some potted plants.

They’re red, just like the flower Harry can’t stop staring at and Louis can’t help but think how wonderful of a gift this could make. Harry never gets to see the outside world, never gets to experience Earth beyond the muddy site and his tiny tank. This isn’t freedom, but it would make him smile and that’s all Louis wants really. More than just being curious about his life, his behaviours, Louis just really wants to see him smile.

“They’re geraniums,” the little girl explains, taking a pot almost as big as she is in her arms and handing it to him.

“Oh,” Louis replies with a chuckle. “Do you have anything smaller? The same flowers please?”

The little girl sighs and rolls her eyes theatrically, looking absolutely adorable as she puts the pot back on the table. She can’t be older than seven years old, but she looks serious as she gets on her tiptoes to peer over the table, inspecting every flower pot to find something suitable. After a while she gets off the box and drops to her knees, looking around and under the table until she lets out a small victorious cry and she emerges holding a pot the exact same size.

“Ta-da,” she says happily.

“This pot is huge,” Louis deadpans.

“The plant is tiny,” the girl says with a shrug and it’s true. The plant really is. The whole thing could fit in the palm of Louis’ hand, just one of the flowers having already blossomed.

“Fair enough, I’ll take it,” Louis replies, reaching into his trousers to grab some money.

He’ll think of something.

*

 

The first thing Louis does once they're back on the site is to go to the kitchen tent and grab himself a cuppa. He's not particularly thirsty but he still has a mighty need. Once he's got the mug in one hand and his potted plant in the other, Louis smiles at the people hanging around, sitting down at various tables and starts making his way back to his caravan. When he gets there, Louis takes the time to dump the entirety of his tea on the ground before opening his door and walking in.

Normally, he would feel absolutely awful for wasting a perfectly good cup of tea - although good is a bit of a stretch to describe the foul beverage they serve at _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ \- but this morning, the mug is what Louis is truly after. He puts both the pot and mug on his nightstand, taking a second to admire the gift. It's completely ridiculous is the thing. The flower is tiny, a little joyous speck of red in a huge pot, looking like a child wearing its parents' clothing, engulfed and disappearing. It loses all of its appeal. Louis isn't sure why the flower girl didn't have anything more appropriate for it, but he suspects she, like most of her customers, simply forgot the plant existed. Well, her lost and Louis' gain, especially now he has the perfect solution for it.

He glances down at his mug, small yet not too dainty, and smiles with satisfaction. As he starts digging around the plant to extract the whole thing and replant it, he has to admit to himself that this was not a bad idea. He hates the idea of giving himself a pat on the back, but this is a brilliant gift. Harry is going to love it. And it barely has anything to do with the fact that Louis couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut and has completely broken the promise he made Harry to keep their secrets. It has nothing to do with how awful he feels about it. He can be nice without an undisclosed motive after all and if it serves as a secret apology that Harry will never have to know about but will still soothe the sting of Louis' guilt, then so be it. It's not the end of the world and it comes from a place of caring.

Once he's done carefully digging around the plants' roots, Louis counts to three before extracting it from its original pot and putting into the much more appropriately sized mug.

"Ah," he says happily as he starts adding a bit of soil, tapping to make sure it's all even. "Perfect."

It's only as he exits his caravan, happily carrying his tiny gift, that he realises he's forgotten the basket of food Liam was carrying. In fact, he remembers it the exact moment he stumbles upon it where it's been carefully placed in front of his door. He grabs the doorknob suddenly, heart in his throat as he almost falls down the stairs, sighing with relief when he manages to maintain his balance. Liam meant well, but he almost just killed Louis.

"Damn it Liam," Louis mumbles before bending down to grab the basket, putting the mug in it and starting to make his way to the pool.

He can't wait to see Harry's face, the way his eyes will widen and sparkle when he realises what the gift is. The musical sound of his laugh and the way his cheek will dimple in happiness, making Louis want to stroke the curve of it with a finger.

It's going to be great.

Harry is already waiting for him once he starts climbing the stairs to the deck, sitting on it and combing through his hair with his fingers, humming an old sailor song absently. He jumps when he hears the sound of Louis' feet, taking his hair off his face in one swooping movement of his hand, smiling when he sees who his visitor is.

"Good morning Lou," he calls, moving a little further down in order to leave more space for his friend.

'Morning Swimmy," Louis replies, unable to control the way his voice goes soft and tender. "You good?"

Harry nods. "Hungry a bit," he replies, eyeing the basket in Louis' arms.

Louis hums as he sits down next to him, keeping the basket out of Harry's reach.

"Too hungry for a surprise?" he asks.

Harry smiles. "A surprise? For me?"

"Yes, but you're hungry so let's have breakfast," Louis replies teasingly. "Gifts can wait."

"You got me a gift," Harry says bashfully, cheeks reddening at the thought.

"Yes," Louis replies, "we've established that."

"Why?"

Louis shrugs, unsure how to answer the question. The right thing to do would be telling the truth, that he feels awful about opening his big fat mouth and that he wants to make it up to him. But telling the truth involves disappointing Harry and hurting his feelings.

"Just made me think of you," he says awkwardly, placing the basket next to him before reaching inside and taking the mug out.

Harry's eyes widen in wonder as he reaches for the mug. He stops before grabbing it, giving Louis an uncertain look and it's only when he nods that Harry cradles it delicately between his fingers, a soft smile on his face.

"It's a flower," he says happily.

Louis shrugs, feeling shy all of a sudden, exposed and on display. "I know you like to look at them," he explains as he turns to look through the food and starts taking one of the packages out. "I thought maybe you'd like to have one to take care of. Just need to water it and make sure she has enough sun.... Then you can really look at it more carefully since it's going to be closer to you."

"Louis," Harry says in a small voice and he can't make himself look at him, not yet. "Thank you, that's... That's the best gift I've ever been given."

Louis chuckles, rubbing his nose, head still down. "I doubt that."

"I mean it, it's very thoughtful," Harry says before delicately putting the mug on the deck next to him and reaching for Louis, dragging him into a tight hug.

It’s the first time they’ve hugged properly, an actual embrace that doesn’t involve Louis having to carry Harry to places. It feels more natural than it should, with Harry’s tail in the way and both of them sitting down. It shouldn’t be as comfortable as it is and yet. Louis lets himself be held, burying his face into Harry’s shoulder, smiling against his naked skin as he smells him, the saltiness of the water strong and overpowering. The water is seeping through his shirt and making him shiver a little as he slowly gets wet, but Louis doesn’t mind. How could he when Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ waist and hums happily?

“Thank you,” Harry whispers again. “I love it.”

Louis sighs, untangling himself from Harry’s body and looking into his happy eyes. “Oh,” he says sadly, rubbing a thumb against Harry’s cheek, soft and slow, before taking his hand away. “I’m the worst,” he admits with a shrug.

“For buying a nice gift?” Harry asks, confused.

“I told the boys about you.”

Harry’s face falls and inhales deeply, burying a hand in his hair before speaking. “What does that mean? Who are the boys?”

“Niall, Liam and Zayn,” Louis replies in a small voice. “They’re-”

“I know who they are,” Harry snaps. “What did you say?”

“They know that you can talk, that you’re…. like us, I suppose,” Louis explains, pinching the skin of his wrists as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to,” he blurts.

“You said you’d keep my secret?” Harry says and it’s a question now where a certainty used to be and Louis is responsible. Louis broke his promise and now Harry looks small, upset.

“It’s Lux! She told her mother that you’ve been speaking to her, she didn’t believe it but she started telling everyone and the boys confronted me about it. I denied it straight away but I guess I’m not that good of a liar because they saw right through it. I guess calling you Harry while I was denying it was a bit suspicious too,” Louis explains self-deprecatingly

“What about….” Harry trails off, a sick, scared look appearing on his face.

“No!” Louis says, grabbing Harry’s wrists. “Ben and Simon don’t know and the guys promised they wouldn’t tell. I made sure of it. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“So that’s why you bought me a gift? Because you felt guilty?” Harry asks but he doesn’t look furious and scared anymore, just cautious. He hasn’t pushed Louis away yet.

“No,” Louis denies, then he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I went with Liam to the market to make sure he wouldn’t tell Simon. I knew Niall and Zayn wouldn’t because they know how awful he can be, but Liam… Liam works directly with him and I wasn’t sure he’d keep his word. We’ve talked about it and it’s fine now, I trust him,” he says sincerely. “But, there was this… little girl selling flowers and it just reminded me of you. I wasn’t gonna say anything but you looked so happy and I couldn't stand lying to you.”

The _again_ remains unsaid, hanging between them and Louis wishes he were a braver person, the type of man who could admit everything right here, right now, but he can’t. Just the uncertain way Harry is looking at him now hurts like a stabbing wound, gaping in Louis’ chest, and he can’t imagine admitting the reasons for his presence on the show would make it any better. Besides, he hasn’t touched his journal in days, hasn’t felt like recording any more of their conversations now they’ve gone past simple information about their respective lives into just chatting about everything and nothing, unimportant stuff that makes them laugh or their favourite memories. He doesn’t even know if he still wants to use the information he has found out anymore. He feels confused, sure of only his affection for Harry and his desire to protect him. Louis can’t quite see the point of being honest and breaking his heart when he doesn’t even know if he’s going to go through with his original plan anymore.

“I just wanted to make you smile,” Louis continues, tangling their fingers together. “That’s all. I’m sorry I’ve tainted it now.”

“It was an accident,” Harry says, defending him and Louis knows he probably doesn’t deserve it but he feels grateful.

“I’m still sorry.”

“You…,” Harry gulp. “You’re sure they won’t tell?”

Louis starts shaking his head before Harry’s question is even out of his mouth. “They promised and I realise that probably means very little considering I promised too but I’ve been getting to know them and they’re really good people.”

Harry nods. “I’d like to meet them,” he says, letting go of Louis’ hands and reaching towards the basket to grab something to eat.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks shakily. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“You said I could trust them,” Harry replies, not understanding.

Louis is not sure why he’s so against it. It just seems like a risky plan, something that could easily blow up in their faces and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen.

“You can,” Louis agrees, nodding and racking his brain to find one good reason why he could be so against it that isn’t because what you and I have is special and I don’t want anyone intruding on it.

He can’t.

“I just worry,” Louis chuckles. “I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Oh,” Harry replies, taking a bite of seaweed and crushing it with his teeth. Suddenly he looks at Louis with wide eyes. “Are they scared of me?” he asks, looking horrified at the thought. “Is that why you don’t want us to meet?”

“Of course not Swimmy,” Louis says, feeling his eyes crinkling with fondness. “How could anyone think you’re scary? You’re the softest, sweetest person I know.”

Harry blushes. “Some people do,” he argues with a pout.

“Yeah, idiots like Simon,” Louis scoffs. “Who cares about that twat’s opinion? No one that matters thinks you’re scary.”

“So you’ll bring them then?” Harry insists sweetly and Louis thinks maybe he’s being played.

He sighs. “Perhaps,” he replies, still uncomfortable with the idea, even though it looks like he won’t have a choice now.

“Good,” Harry smiles. His eyes fall onto the mug and Louis thinks he’ll be bitter or angry again, but instead he scrunches his nose before smiling again, dimples out and everything. “So,” he asks, “what type of flower is it anyway?”

Louis opens his mouth to reply and comes up with a blank. “She… definitely told me and I can't remember,” he admits in defeat and when Harry giggles, Louis thinks it’s most likely going to be alright.


	9. Chapter Eight

“We want to talk to Harry,” Niall says the next day, cornering Louis as he gets out of his caravan. Both Liam and Zayn are standing behind him, arms crossed on their chest and nodding fiercely.

Louis gives them a suspicious look for a second, thinking this sounds a little bit too familiar for him.

“Have you been talking to him?” he asks, the sound of Harry’s voice demanding he meets Louis’ friends still ringing in his ears.

“No,” Liam replies, “that’s exactly the problem.”

“It’s not fair you’re the only one in contact with him,” Zayn adds. “We want to get to know someone from another species too.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Louis says, feeling a strong sense of deja-vu.

“Just ask him,” Niall begs, pouting at Louis and batting his eyelashes. “Please? Tell him I can make him cool card tricks!”

Louis rolls his eyes at Niall’s antics before swearing under his breath. “Shit,” he mumbles. “He’d really like those.”

Niall grins and starts clapping excitedly. “Yes! So you’ll ask if he wants to?”

“There’s no need,” Louis replies, a hint exasperated. “He’s already asked me. He’s very curious about all of you. I told him you could be trusted, but I think he wants to see for himself.”

“Oh, we can definitely prove to him how trusting we are, right lads?” Niall says and Louis doesn’t know why he’s so surprised by the childish behaviour, but somehow he is.

“Fine, we can arrange something,” he agrees despite the nervosity. Hopefully, everything will go smoothly. “Maybe tomorrow or-”

“Right now?” Zayn suggests. “The show isn’t happening for hours?”

“Perfect idea honey!” Niall replies, turning around to beam at him and grabbing his hand, dragging him happily towards the pool.

“Well,” Louis says to Liam, “I guess we’re going right now.”

*

 

Louis tries not to feel nervous as they walk towards the pool even if it’s a hard state of mind to achieve for him. Harry was eager to meet them and they’re eager to meet him, but what if it all goes wrong anyway? What if one of them decides Harry is too scary or monstrous? They’d have no reason to think so but neither does anyone on the show and most of them still hate him. Louis isn’t sure he could deal with Harry’s broken-hearted face if the boys have a last minute change of heart. Alternatively, he’s not sure he’s ready for them to get on too well either. Harry is his friend, his well-guarded secret. It’s an irrational possessiveness but Louis’ throat keeps tightening uncomfortably whenever he thinks about losing their carefully preserved bubble; the intimacy of their friendship; something only he gets to share with Harry.

The other boys clearly don’t share any of those concerns; they’re walking happily between the caravans, Zayn and Niall teasingly pushing each other with big smirks, bickering over who will get the honour of saying hello to Harry first. Liam is looking at them with a fond yet exasperated look on his face.

“We’ll all get to say hi,” he sighs as they walk past three crewmen smoking cigars while playing cards.

One of them is sitting on the stairs of a caravan while the other two are leaning on barrels. There’s one between them with the deck of cards and some coins on it. Charles is amongst them and when he notices Louis his face darkens. He frowns, making a rude gesture towards him, their previous fight clearly not forgotten. Louis is about to reply and engage him when Zayn reaches for him, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ wrist.

“Don’t,” he whispers as they keep walking ahead. “He’ll give you a black eye if you provoke him.”

“I could take him,” Louis whispers back quickly, offended but mostly annoyed.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “He’s an idiot and you could probably destroy him in a debate, but let’s be realistic here.”

“I-”

“Louis, he’s bigger than all four of us combined,” Niall chirps happily. “And it’s not like Payne here is tiny either. Besides, we told you. Just ignore him, he’ll get bored of this soon enough.”

“Whatever,” Louis grumbles as they arrive near the pool.

“Your protectiveness is sweet,” Liam comments, putting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “But let’s not give him a reason to complain to Simon about you.”

“Fine,” Louis nods and of course Liam is right. It’s not like Louis is their favourite. The last thing he needs is other people complaining about his work when he’s already on shaky grounds. He feels enough pressure from the heavy looks Cowell and Winston keep sending his way from across the site without the added knowledge that someone else is judging the work he’s doing with Harry.

"I should go first," he adds. He puts a hand on Niall's shoulder to stop him from getting any closer. "Just to warn him."

"But, you said he wanted to see us?" Niall replies, confused.

"Well, yes but I haven't told him it would happen today and the last time Liam came with me as a surprise he was a bit upset about it..."

Niall and Zayn turn their heads towards Liam at the same time, giving him the exact same judging look.

"Ooops?" Liam shrugs with a chuckle that sounds forced.

He's trying to hide it, but he's nervous about seeing Harry again and talking to him. It's becoming more and more apparent as they get closer to him in the way Liam gulps and puts his hands in his pockets, his body stiff and eyes wide open. Louis can’t blame him. After everything that happened between them and all the rough memories...

"Don't worry, I don't think he's mad at you. I just think it's common courtesy to give him a warning, you know?" Louis explains, his focus solely on Liam. He doesn't make a move until Liam nods at him, his features starting to relax, even if only slightly.

"Alright, go introduce the idea of us I suppose," Niall sighs, taking a step back and letting Louis lead the way. "We'll be waiting over here."

Louis ignores the comment in favour of jogging until he reaches the pool and when he does, he climbs the stairs two at a time. When he gets to the deck, Harry is already sitting on it and he's looking at Louis with wide, excited eyes, a huge grin on his face.

"Hey you," Louis says slowly, nudging between Harry's shoulder blades with his knee. "What are you grinning about?"

Harry schools his feature into a nonchalant expression. "Nothing," he lies, eyes still bright. He looks mischievous, but most of all really pleased with himself. "You brought your friends," he adds after a beat, a pleased smile blossoming on his face again.

"And you've been spying on me," Louis accuses with no heat. It's not like they were trying to be particularly subtle.

"Well it's not my fault you've all been shouting next to my humble home, I can't exactly go somewhere else to let you have a private conversation after all," Harry shrugs. He passes his fingers through the bottom of his hair, pretending to be captivated by the way the strand untangle for a few seconds. Then he looks up to see Louis' reaction to his comment and as soon their eyes meet they both giggle.

"Well," Louis says, pausing for a long beat. "I was going to ask your permission to bring them up, but I'm assuming you don't mind."

Harry shakes his head so fast and excitedly that he sends water flying on Louis' shirt. His eyes widen when he realises and he blushes slightly. "Oops?" he asks with a giggle.

Louis smiles down at his now slightly wet shirt, feeling a bit taken aback. He didn't expect Harry to be this eager to meet the boys. "You're really excited about this," he says and it's not really a question but there is a hint of hesitancy in his voice that he can't quite shake.

Harry nods. "Yeah," he admits. "I get to properly meet new humans today."

"And they get to properly meet you," Louis adds because none of them have truly seen Harry. They've seen what the show has demanded of him, but they haven't seen the person behind the theatrics.

“That too,” he agrees softly.

“Are you nervous?” Louis asks in a whisper, crouching so he’s at Harry’s level.

Uncertainty flashes through his eyes but it’s gone in a second, replaced by determination. Harry shakes his head. “No,” he replies without hesitancy.

“It’s okay if you are,” Louis murmurs directly into Harry’s ear, letting his lips brush softly against it. “I won’t tell them.”

Harry blushes and gives Louis a small look before focusing his gaze back onto the pool.  
  
"Maybe a little," he admits and it's so low Louis can barely hear it.  
  
"It's going to be fine," Louis whispers back, stroking the skin of Harry's upper back comfortingly, making slow circular motions between his shoulder blades. "I'll throw them out if they behave poorly, alright?"  
  
Harry snorts, leaning into Louis' body subconsciously. "Deal," he confirms, offering Louis a hand to shake.  
  
He huffs and rolls his eyes before letting his smaller hand be held by Harry's gigantic paw.

“You really like doing that,” Louis comments while they shake hands.

Harry nods. “It means things are serious,” he explains, squeezing Louis’ hand one last time before letting go.

Louis hums. “I suppose it does.”

Harry nods seriously before jumping back into the water, leaving enough space on the deck for the others.

  
"No turning back now," Louis warns and it’s only when Harry smiles that he turns around and call to the boys waiting for them a few meters away.

  
He sees them run until they reach the stairs, pushing each other to get up first, and Louis gives them a disappointed stare when all three of them are finally on the deck. It's a bit of a tight fit with grown men awkwardly standing next to each other, but they have to live with.

  
"Where is he?" Niall asks, peering into the water to see Harry. "I thought you said he wanted to see us?"  
  
"He does," Louis replies in an irritated tone as he asks himself the exact same thing. He was at the surface just a few seconds ago. "Just got to leave him a moment to get ready that's all," he explains, hoping all of his questions haven’t discouraged him after all.  
  
"Oh," Niall says disappointedly like that means he won't get to see Harry at all.

  
"He's right there," Zayn points out, turning Niall's head a little bit to the left to that he can see Harry swimming back and forth at the bottom.  
  
"What is he doing?" Liam asks, a puzzled look in his brown eyes.  
  
"I...." Louis shrugs. "I don't know, to be honest." Harry was so enthused to meet other people before Louis said anything, but of course, he couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut with his silly questions about being nervous.... If he has ruined this for all of them, Louis is going to scream.

He shouldn’t worry though because Harry quickly emerges from the water. He’s not his smiling self though, not at all. He’s wearing a wary look that Louis quickly recognises as being grandly exaggerated. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at all of them creepily and it occurs to Louis in that moment that he’s probably planning on playing with them a little. Well, who is he to ruin that fun?

“Hello,” Niall says cheerfully to break the silence, waving at Harry and dropping on his knees to get a closer a look. “I’m Niall,” he adds, offering him his hand to shake and Louis has to restrain himself from smiling.

 _I bet he loves that_ , Louis thinks, looking at the way Harry’s face barely changes, at the slight tremor in the corner of his mouth like he’s trying to hold back a smile. Yeah, he’s loving Niall’s manner even if he won’t say.

Harry doesn’t move to shake Niall’s hand. He just stares at him silently instead and Louis isn’t sure if it’s just him amusing himself or if he’s testing them in a way, but personally, Louis is enjoying it.

Niall turns his head to look back at Louis, giving him a slightly panicked look. This is not what he was expecting and he seems frozen in place, begging Louis to offer a helping hand. It makes sense since he’s the only one of them who actually knows Harry and his moods. Unfortunately for them, Louis also knows Harry’s mischievous nature and for once, he’s going to witness someone else be at the receiving end of it. There’s no way in hell he’s helping out.

He just shrugs in response, pretending like he has no idea what is going on in Harry’s mind. It might be slightly mean, but he can’t resist the hilarity of seeing Niall’s happy confidence slipping away and transforming into pure confusion.

“Oh,” he finally says, catching Zayn’s eyes. “Of course, you probably don’t know what shaking hands is,” Niall laughs, hitting his forehead lightly with the palm of his hand. “Silly me, giving you my hand like that with no explanation,” he adds, shaking his head discouragingly at himself.

Louis snorts at the comment, unable to remain neutral any longer and Harry’s face twists into a grimace. It starts subtly with his shoulder shaking a little until he can’t hold it in any longer and he lets out a loud throaty laugh.

“What… what’s so funny?” Niall whines, looking between the two of them.

“I’m just teasing,” Harry replies hesitantly once he’s stopped laughing, offering his hand in return and waiting for Niall to shake it. “I know what shaking hands mean. I see people doing it all the time.”

Zayn smirks, clearly amused.

“Oh,” Niall replies without laughing. He grabs Harry’s hand firmly, though, without any caution or fear, just a good, strong handshake.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Harry shrugs before letting go of Niall’s hand. “I’m Harry."

“Your English is really good,” Niall blurts out before blushing.

“Smooth darling,” Zayn teases. “I’m Zayn, that idiotic one belongs to me. Apologies for his lack of finesse.”

Niall gasps, turning his upper body towards his lover to tickle him and Zayn yelps, taking a step sideways and colliding into Liam who almost loses balance and falls off the deck.

“Hey!” he protests, holding onto Zayn’s shoulder. “Be careful or one of us is going to fall off this thing,” he adds brusquely. Liam clears his throat when he realises Harry’s eyes are fixed on him. “Sorry, I… Sorry,” he babbles, taking a step forward to get a bit closer to the edge where Harry is carefully waiting. “I’m Liam.”

“Of course,” Harry replies, looking neither angry nor overjoyed, simply wary as he eyes Liam up and down. “I know who you are.”

“Oh,” Liam whispers before licking his lips. He kneels down and opens his mouth to say something else when Harry speaks again, interrupting him before he even gets the chance to start.

“I know who all of you are.”

“You do?” Zayn asks.

Harry nods. “Lou told me about you of course, but even before...”

They all stare at him with various degrees of shock written on their faces and Louis has to bite his lower lip to stop himself from smiling when Harry frowns at them.

“I live here too,” he says slowly. “Have been for months.”

“Of course,” Niall says quickly.

“And I’m friend with Lux,” Harry adds like it’s obvious. “She loves your red suit,” he whispers towards Niall and suddenly they’re all laughing together and Louis isn’t sure how it happened, but he feels a weight lifting off his shoulder.

“Hey, do you know any cards game?” Niall asks, wiggling his eyebrows towards Harry before inviting all of them to sit down on the deck.

Two hours later, Harry has won every single game they’ve played.

“Are you cheating?” Niall asks, giving Harry a suspiciously as he leans over the deck from the water to watch the discarded cards.

“Me?” Harry gasps, offended.

“This is a complicated game,” Niall continues. “Have you been helping him?” he asks, glaring at Louis where he’s sitting next to the water.

“I’d never heard of that game before!” Louis protests. “I can barely understand it now.”

“Maybe you’re a good liar, you two have been pals for a while now,” he continues, giving them both dirty looks. “I bet Louis is giving you clues.”

“Excuse Niall,” Zayn softly. “He’s a sore loser.”

Niall gasps loudly. “I am NOT!”

Zayn gives all four of them an exasperated look before smiling at his lover. “Of course not, honey,” he says mockingly, reaching to squeeze Niall’s thigh.

“Get your hands off me,” Niall says, trying to shake Zayn’s hand off by moving his thigh, flapping his crossed legs like butterfly wings. He gives the cards in his hands a long look before sighing. “I’ve got nothing,” he ends up saying, dropping them on the deck and giving up dramatic.

He pouts for the rest of the game.

When they get up to leave, Harry smirks.

“Hey Niall,” he calls just as he’s about to walk down the stairs.

“What?” Niall shrugs, rolling his eyes at him.

“Do you know what sailors love to do best when they’re at sea?”

“No,” he replies slowly and there’s a careful look on his face like he knows where this is going and he doesn’t like it.

“Drinking,” Harry says, putting his index up, “swearing,” he adds, raising a second finger, “and playing cards,” he finishes with a big smirk, waving three fingers happily.

Louis laughs, delighted at the look of pure annoyance on Niall’s face.

“Fuck off,” he says with a laugh before making his way back to the ground.

 

*

 

They’re still laughing loudly at Niall’s expense, making their way back to the kitchen tent to get dinner when they’re interrupted by the sight of a displeased Ben Winston. He’s frowning at them, his arms folded across his chest.

“What were you all doing?” he asks, eyeing them all suspiciously one by one.

“Nothing,” Louis replies, defensive, angry, and he gets Zayn’s elbow in the ribs for his lack of subtlety.

“That thing has been here for months, why are you all suddenly so interested in gawking at it?” Ben continues, eyes focusing on Liam, Niall, and Zayn. “What’s suddenly so interesting?” he insists aggressively.

“We’re helping Louis out,” Zayn blurts out and Louis closes his eyes for a second.

Where on Earth is he going with this?

“Exactly,” Niall says smoothly and he’s the only one of them that doesn’t look like he just got caught doing something wrong by his mother. “We’re helping him with a trick, it’s quite complex but we think it could be a huge crowd pleaser if Swimmy ever gets it right.”

“A trick?” Ben asks, focusing his glare on Louis.

“I did promise you some, didn’t I?” Louis replies tensely.

“Yes, you did. Weeks ago,” Ben sneers. “Funny that you’re suddenly waking up.”

“Well,” Niall replies, putting a comforting hand on Louis’ shoulder to shut him up, “it’s a long process. He’s not a very intelligent animal so it’s taking a while. But you can tell Simon this thing is going to blow his mind once we’ve succeeded.”

Ben looks at them for a few seconds and Louis could swear he can hear the frantic beating of their hearts as they hope he’ll believe them.

The moment passes quickly and Ben starts chuckling, pointing a finger towards Niall.

“You’re right,” he says. “It can’t be easy showing that dumb beast how to balance a ball on its tail.”

They all laugh awkwardly with him and Louis hopes his desire to murder doesn’t shine too brightly in his eyes.

“Please Ben,” Niall chuckles too hard, “we’d never do anything so simple. No. This is going to be magnificent.”

“Well….?” Ben asks expectantly, impatient and blunt.

Niall blinks slowly back at him and he’s evidently reached the ending of his plan and has no idea what to reply to this insistent request.

“Obviously, we can’t tell you yet,” Louis replies and out of all the options available to him, of course, he goes with the ridiculous _it’s a secret._  “It’s not ready at all and we want you, and Mr. Cowell, to experience it properly.”

“Exactly,” Niall agrees in a loud voice. “The step we are at right now really isn’t enough on its own, it’s almost boring, but it is, unfortunately, a crucial one for the overall show. You know how it is? Just trust us, yeah? In a couple of weeks when we’re done, it’s going to rain money over here.”

Ben doesn’t look convinced, far from it. He gives Liam a calculated look, waits for him to nod in agreement with the story before mumbling an angry “fine” and turning back the way he came from.

“Great,” Louis sighs, mumbling to himself, “another thing I have to lie to Harry _and_ Cowell about.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Niall says and Louis jumps at the noise, surprised to even get a reply.

The web he’s been spinning is getting more complex and tangled than he expected and he can’t help but fear what is going to happen when he leaves and everything collapses. He needs to make sure Harry is going to be alright. Above all else. He couldn’t bear the thought of him paying for Louis’ lies, for Louis’ mistakes.

“You…” Louis clears his throat before looking at Niall straight in the eyes. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?” he begs.

“We’re taking care of him together,” Niall replies reassuringly. “You’re not alone in this anymore, don’t worry.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I mean when I leave, _if_ I leave,” he corrects and it’s the first time he’s acknowledged it out loud, this crazy idea  of his to stay on the show with Harry, to abandon that career he hates in order to take care of someone…. someone who matters a great deal to him now. It’s wild and irrational and he can barely stomach it as it is, but Louis can’t help how he feels and right now he feels torn. He feels split right in half and the desire to follow his heart is only getting stronger every day. But he needs to be more prepared than that. He needs Harry’s safety not to be dependent on his silly whims. He needs some help, needs other people on Harry’s side.

“Of course,” Liam replies automatically, even if he’s not the one Louis asked and a fierce burst of affection for the man it took him so long to trust flashes through Louis’ entire body. “We wouldn’t let them hurt him.”

“Liam is right,” Niall adds with a nod. “When are you going back to Oxford?”

Louis shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can anymore.”

Zayn looks at him seriously. “We’ll be here either way,” he says with conviction.

*

Simon is looking through a list of the show’s expenses when Ben bursts through his office’s door, looking furious.

“We have to do something about him!” he yells angrily pointing vaguely towards the door, nostrils flaring and eyes wide.

Simon raises an eyebrow, unwilling to engage with his business associate when he’s in such a state.

“Tomlinson,” Ben replies, exasperated.

And of course, this is what he’s complaining about. Every few days it’s the same old story. He’s useless, doesn’t deliver on his promises…. He’s arrogant and has no place in their show. Ben’s list of complaints is long and detailed. Most of them are fair and Simon agrees with him, but unlike his colleague, he never forgets the most important thing. Louis has greatly improved their profit.

“What has he done this time?” Simon asks without trying to hide his boredom.

“He’s up to something with that little gang of his.”

“Gang?”

“Yes!” Ben replies insistently. “Niall, Zayn, and Liam. They were at the pool together. I’m telling you, I don’t like it.”

“Have they said why they were there? Did you ask Liam? Knowledge of Louis’ plans is why we sent him to work with him after all.”

Ben sighs. “They said they’re teaching him an amazing trick that’s going to delight our audiences. They’re obviously lying and planning something.”

“And Liam?”

“I asked him privately and he said Louis was telling the truth.”

“There’s your answer,” Simon says dismissively. “I’m curious to see what they’re working on.”

“It’s been an awfully long time, though,” Ben says slowly. “Since when have you become a patient man?”

“I know you don’t like him and neither do I. He’s brought us a lot more money,” Simon argues because even though he dislikes the man, numbers can’t lie. “And if there’s a chance he can increase that amount again, I’m willing to wait a little longer.”

“Doesn’t mean I trust the bloke,” Ben mumbles around a newly lit cigarette Simon hasn’t seen him take out of his coat.

“No,” Simon snorts, “let’s not go that far.”

Louis Tomlinson is an anomaly on the show, Simon saw it straight away. He doesn’t belong, doesn’t quite fit in and his unhealthy desire to protect what is essentially a violent creature makes no sense to Simon and it never has. As difficult as he is though, Louis _has_ been helpful. His critiques were originally hard to swallow and even harder to agree with, but Simon isn’t foolish enough to refuse to see how right he was. Everything that they’ve improved at his suggestion has brought a positive change for the show. Somehow Louis knew it all along. He promised a happier merman would mean a bigger, happier audience and he hasn’t been wrong so far. The beast has been interacting with people more; they’ve all seen it. And those people have been coming back, have been bringing friends and family with them, have been whispering about the wonders and curiosities Simon’s show has to offer. He can’t say he particularly likes the man, with his arrogance and contempt, but denying he’s been a valuable asset would be absurd. And Simon Cowell is no such thing.

“He doesn’t have anything planned,” Ben argues as he starts pacing in front of Simon’s desk. “He’s lying, he’s been lying all along just so we would build it that expensive thing!” he blurts out angrily.

Simon sighs deeply, crossing his fingers together over the mess of bookkeeping papers scattered over his desk. “We need a backup plan,” he declares slowly.

“What?” Ben asks, stopping his movements.

“Tomlinson might be speaking the truth.”

Ben snorts mockingly. “If you had seen him babbling to explain himself today you wouldn’t believe that.”

“Still, that vague trick of his might still bring us more visitors and I’m not ready to dismiss it yet. Not with how valuable he’s been so far.”

“And if he doesn’t deliver?”

“That’s why we need the backup plan,” Simon sighs. “People want to get closer and closer to that beast, don’t they? It fascinates them.”

“And?"

“What if we sold them something that would allow that?” Simon smiles, a more developed idea already forming in his mind.

Oh, Simon thinks, people are going to riot at the show’s main gate in order to get in first.

 

*

 

A few days later, Louis wakes up to a smoky world. The famous London fog has risen during the night and has englobed the whole city in its misty intrigue. He steps out of his caravan coughing, unable to even see his hands when he extends his arms in front of him. He considers risking the stairs blind but changes his mind almost immediately and turns around to grab a lantern to help him see through the fog. It's more or less efficient but he manages to make his way to the ground safely.

It’s early, earlier than Louis’ usual time of departure at least, and most of the artists are asleep at this hour. Louis can still hear a few chatting voices in the ghostly air though, reminders that he's not alone despite the illusion. He can't imagine the show will take place tonight if the fog doesn't lift and Louis knows once it settles, the cloud of smoke can linger for days, crawling sneakily into the streets of London and turning even the simplest of tasks into a terrifying ordeal. People die coughing when the fog comes along; people mistakenly, drunkenly, walk into the Thames; they get trampled or injured; anything can happen with their vision so suddenly impaired.

Still, it doesn't affect Louis' morning ritual too much. Liam probably couldn’t go to the market for fresh products. It’s not safe in those conditions and sensible as he is, he would never risk it. The lack of basket at Louis’ door only confirms his suspicion. Luckily, they always keep jars of extra seaweed just in case so it isn’t too much of an inconvenience. Louis refuses to worry yet. The smart thing to do would be to stay inside and try to protect himself before anything else, but he’s never missed breakfast with Harry before. So he walks through the cloud, one hand holding the lantern and the other holding a green handkerchief to his mouth and nose to avoid breathing in the toxic substance. The stench of coal is strong but, like most people living near London, Louis is used to it.

When he gets to the pool, the stairs creak under his feet, announcing his presence and when he finally reaches the deck, Harry is already waiting for him, his hands vague forms gripping the wood.

"Hi," Louis croaks, "you alright?" He put the lantern carefully next to Harry’s hands before sitting.

"What's happening?" Harry asks, voice shaky with nerves.

It's so dark Louis can't even see his face.

"It's just some fog," he replies as reassuringly as possible. "Have you never seen it before? On the coast maybe?"

Harry gulps loudly. "Not like this."

Louis reaches for one of his hand, stroking the top with his index over and over until Harry starts to relax and stops holding the deck so tightly.

"Yeah," he hums thoughtfully after a few minutes. "It gets worst in London. Sometimes it goes on for days."

"What?" Harry squeaks, trying to take his hand away. Louis keeps his hold strong but not aggressive and starts tangling their fingers together.

"It's okay Swimmy. Don't worry. It might mean no show for a bit though because people are going to stay inside."

"Why?" Harry insists. "If it's so fine?"

Louis chuckles fondly.

"Well, I guess it is a bit dangerous. The city becomes a bit of a trap and all the coal residues aren't good to breathe, but if you stay in the water you'll be alright. I know it's scary and isolating, but it will be gone soon."

Harry's fingers tighten against his. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Louis laughs lightly.

"You can't breathe underwater."

Louis smiles, eyes crinkling fondly and how could they not? When Harry sounds so genuinely concerned.

"Don't worry love."

"You just said it was dangerous to breathe."

"Worrying won't change anything and I feel perfectly fine. Let's talk about something else.”

“Stop trying to distract me,” Harry pouts. Louis can’t see him, but he knows he pouts.

“I’m not,” Louis protests even though they both know he’s lying. Harry is nervous and uncomfortable though and if bickering a little is what it takes to get him to loosen up, Louis is willing. “Are you hungry? Liam couldn’t get you oysters or krill with the weather today, but we have some of the seaweed you like left?”

“Stop trying to distract me,” Harry repeats, but this time, he sounds a little more amused. There’s a beat of silence. “Yes please, I’d like some,” he adds petulantly.

Louis chuckles as he turns to start crawling towards the jars. He's careful, going slow to make sure he doesn't kick his precious lantern by accident. He takes one of the jars before returning in front of Harry. It takes a bit of struggle to get the jar open and he growls, mumbling come-ons at it. It makes Harry laugh a little.

"Stop it."

"Need help, Lou?" Harry teases happily.

"No!" Louis protests as the jar pops open. "Voila."

“Thanks,” Harry replies with a mouthful. “You want some?” he offers jokingly.

“Tempting,” he says sarcastically, wrinkling his nose in distaste, putting the jar away and lying down on the deck, his head next to Harry’s.

He doesn’t move for hours, skips breakfast and lunch in favour of spending more time with Harry, making sure he isn’t frightened anymore. His stomach growls tauntingly all day, reminding him of his irresponsibility, but Louis doesn’t care.

It’s worth it.

*

“You know, you speak English really well,” Louis remarks later that afternoon and he’s been thinking about it for a while now. There are clearly some words that escape him, but in general, Harry is surprisingly eloquent.

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Harry replies sheepishly. The world is still engulfed in darkness so Louis can’t see the way Harry’s scrunches his nose adorably as he says it, but he knows must.

“There’s a lot you do know. Is it a required thing? Do you have to learn it as a child?” he asks, imagining mermaid parents all around the world teaching their younglings how to speak the language of the coast.

Harry snorts. “No, definitely not. I was told it was quite an inappropriate hobby actually. My parents didn’t like it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t listen to them.”

Harry laughs bitterly. “I don’t know about that. They were worried about me spending so much time near the coast, near the ships. They thought I’d get into trouble.” He laughs again. “And they were right.”

“What happened exactly?” Louis asks carefully. He’s never dared before, Harry getting too uncomfortable and cagey whenever they got even remotely close to the subject. This time, in the darkness of the London fog, maybe Harry will finally feel comfortable sharing.

“You mean how I got here?”

Louis nods before remembering Harry can’t see him right now. “Yeah,” he croaks. He clears his throat, reaching inside his pocket for his handkerchief and he puts it over his nose to avoid breathing in any of the smoke.

“I learned English by spying on people,” Harry starts saying, his voice steady and soothing. “My mom didn’t like it, but I’ve always been curious. The thought that there were people out there without tails?” Harry sighs. “I wanted to know everything.”

Louis thinks back to that night, so many years ago, when he witnessed the impossible and felt like the whole world was opening up for him in a second. “I know the feeling very well,” he admits in a whisper.

“Well,” Harry continues, “my parents knew it could be dangerous to get too close to mankind so they’d tell us enough that we’d know about humans, but not too much that we’d try to interact with them, you know?”

“Let me guess,” Louis interrupts, “it didn’t work very well on you?”

Harry chuckles. “No, not really. I just got more curious. That’s when I started following ships around, just to see and listen. I couldn’t understand a word of course, but I was fascinated. I’d go near beaches, hide behind rocks… anything to get a closer look. Eventually, I picked up on the language. Simple words at first; the name of fish and the sea, every tool you can find on a ship… things like that.”

“Did your parents know about it?”

“Yes. They didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much they could do. So I kept learning until I got pretty good.”

“More than pretty good, if you ask my opinion,” Louis says goofily.

“Thanks,” Harry replies with a small chuckle. “Anyway, it was a few months ago,” he continues and Louis had suspected he’d been stuck at _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ for a long time but it still hurts to hear the confirmation. “I left my family to go explore for a bit one afternoon. It was completely innocent, I wasn't even following any ship or anything like that, you know? Just a fisherman and his boat and me too stupid to be fast enough. I got caught on one of his hooks. I guess he thought I must have been a small whale or something because he was really surprised when he brought me back up on his boat. He was yelling and talking really fast,” Harry’s voice falters. “I think I really scared him. I was trying to tell him I didn’t want to hurt him but he wouldn’t listen and I was having a hard time… I was bleeding a lot and felt dizzy. He wouldn’t listen. He just knocked me out and threw me overboard.”

“Harry…” Louis whispers, reaching blindly for his wrist, wrapping his fingers comfortingly around it. He takes a deep breath, focusing on Harry’s steady pulse, on the moment they’re sharing now rather than the troubling past he can’t change.

“When I woke up, I was washed up on a beach somewhere. I could barely move… that’s where Simon found me.”

Louis closes his eyes and he can see it so perfectly in his mind; Swimmy, scared and injured, and Simon, a menacing figure with dark intentions.

“I suppose he wasn’t very helpful,” Louis says into his handkerchief.

“He knocked me out. Next thing I knew I was tied up in his caravan with Ben and him staring at every inch of me.”

“Did they take care of you at least?” Louis asks even though he can guess the answer. “Did they take care of your wounds?”

“No,” Harry sniffs. He clears his throat to try and hide it but Louis knows he’s crying and it makes his blood boil.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” Louis says, holding back tears. He lets go of his handkerchief and reaches down to press a delicate kiss on the top of Harry’s hand, hoping all the support and tenderness he can’t find words for yet are finding their way to Harry’s heart through the gesture.

“I know,” Harry replies with a shudder. “I suppose I really should have listened to my parents,” he finishes sadly. “Even if not all humans are awful, my interest in them is what got me into this mess.”

“Not really, though,” Louis argues. He gets what Harry means of course, but who’s to say a lonely fisherman wouldn’t have crossed his path regardless. “Not being curious doesn’t mean you would never have gotten captured. It was an accident, not you being careless. It’s awful, but it happens. And imagine if you had listened to them… we wouldn’t be able to communicate at all,” Louis comments. He supposes the issue is more complex than that but Louis values curiosity over almost all things; he hates the thought of Harry resenting his.

“You did fine when you thought I couldn’t understand,” Harry remarks.

“I suppose, but this is much better, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” Harry agrees softly. “I love talking to you.”

“You do?” Louis asks and he doesn’t mean to sound surprised, but it slips out.

“Obviously. You’re kind and you always tell me funny stories. This place would be really boring without you.”

“Well, I love talking to you too Swimmy,” Louis replies and he’s glad the fog is still so dense that it’s hiding the satisfied smirk on his face and the pleased expression in his eyes.

“Even if, unlike me, you actually have somewhere else to go?” Harry demands. His voice sounds slightly hesitant and Louis mentally curses the fog for denying him the chance to see Harry’s face, only mere seconds after praising it for hiding his.

“Yeah,” he replies, tightening his hold on Harry’s wrist. “Nowhere else in the world I’d rather be,” Louis adds. He isn’t even lying.

“Don’t just say that,” Harry says dismissively. He tries to take his hand away from Louis’ grip, but he won’t let him, not when he’s doubting Louis’ intentions like this. “I know taking care of me is part of your job,” Harry ends up saying once he’s stopped struggling to shake Louis off.

Louis feels his heart dropping. “Is that really what you think?”

Harry doesn’t reply and that’s enough of an answer, heartbreaking as it is.

“I love being here,” Louis continues sincerely.

And he does. It’s a terrible place to be and a prison for someone like Harry but Louis can’t help but treasure every moment spent here, every joyful memory. Amongst the chaos and cruelty of Simon’s world, there are many things Louis still loves. He loves spending time with Harry; laughing with him and sharing their stories with each other. He loves the way the site lights up every night and transforms into a whirlwind of colours that almost makes him forget the darkness within. He loves getting to know Niall, Zayn, and Liam better; the way they tease him when his face grows soft and fond when they talk about Harry, the way Zayn ponders and speaks so carefully, the way Niall laughs loudly when he shows them a new card trick, the way Liam guards all of their secrets preciously even when Ben asks… There’s a great deal for him to dislike, and he never forgets about it, but Louis would be lying if he said he isn’t delighted by his time here. When he thinks about leaving, he’s left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

*

The next morning Louis walks between the caravan to the eerie sound of a song. The fog hasn’t lifted yet, the world still a misty trap, and Louis is clinging tightly to his lantern as a voice he knows too well sings softly.

_“The king and his men stole the queen from her bed…”_

Louis keeps making his way to the pool, the entire world still asleep as Harry keeps on singing seemingly to himself, the sound carrying a lot more than Louis would have expected. The chant is accompanying him on the walk he usually makes in silence and he can’t help but wonder if there’s anyone already awake to hear this and if there is, what are they thinking?

_“and bound her in her bones…”_

Are they assuming they’re still asleep? That the voice is part of some strange dream? Are they superstitious, crossing themselves and accusing ghosts?

_“the seas be ours and by the powers where we will, we’ll roam…"_

Maybe they’re not thinking anything of it, maybe they’re convinced it’s one of their coworkers, despite not recognising the voice. Maybe it’s just another mystery of the London fog.

_“Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colours high.”_

Louis is about to climb the first step of the stairs when he stops himself and chooses to listen a little longer. He’s never heard Harry sing before, despite knowing he loves sailors’ songs, and his voice sounds beautiful. A bit shaky and sad but soothing as he goes through the melancholic song.

_“Heave-ho, thieves and beggars; never shall we die.”_

Louis smiles to himself and starts climbing the stairs as silently as possible, trying not to disturb Harry’s moment. It fails the second the wood creaks and Louis can hear Harry gasps, frightened, then his hesitant voice.

“Louis?” he calls through the darkness. “Is that you?”

“I thought you didn’t sing,” Louis replies with a smile, walking on the deck, his movement careful to make sure he doesn’t fall off.

“I said we didn’t sing men to their death,” Harry replies, echoing their first true conversation, “not that we didn’t sing at all.”

“Aren’t you scared of someone hearing you?”

“In this fog?” he asks disbelievingly. “Pff, even if someone did…. nobody would assume it was me. I’m brainless, remember?” he says bitterly.

“Of course,” Louis laughs, carefully sitting down, “their favourite animal.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a while, so long Louis would think he’s gone back under the water, but he can hear the sound of him breathing still.

“I hate them so much,” Harry whispers. “I try not to, but I do.”

“I know.”

“I just…” Harry stops himself and takes a shaky breath. “I just want to go home,” he admits sadly and it breaks Louis’ heart to hear it.

“Harry,” he whispers, taking a step forward to reassure him or comfort him… To do something anything, anything to help Harry. He’s sad and that should never happen.

“Don’t,” Harry says brusquely. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says helplessly, feeling disgusting and powerless.

“It’s fine,” Harry repeats with more conviction. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”

That night, when he tries to go to sleep, Louis could swear he can feel a lump in his mattress where the journal he hasn’t touched in weeks lies. He twists and turns, trying to find a comfortable position for him to sleep in, but he can’t stop hearing Harry’s voice, the lack of emotion as he said _it doesn’t matter._

Harry wants to go home and Louis... Louis is the worst friend in the world.

*

The next day, Louis wakes up to a clear blue sky. The site is already buzzing with excitement despite the early hour, people excited to finally get back to work after long days stuck inside.

“Beautiful day!” Mark calls happily to him when Louis walks past his caravan.

He smiles, giving him a nod and a friendly wave, holding the basket of food precariously with one arm. It is a beautiful day, the first beautiful day in what feels like a century. Louis takes a deep breath once he’s walked past the last caravan, inhaling the smoke-free air for the first time in a while and exhaling loudly with a satisfied smile on his face.

He’s barely slept, too troubled by what Harry confessed to get any rest, but the sight of the sky this morning has lifted his spirit, albeit only slightly. It’s the little things, he tells himself as he gets to the deck to meet Harry. He’s a sight for sore eyes, his long hair twisted in a braid on his shoulder and Louis almost feels like he hasn’t seen his eyes in a month.

“Hey you,” he says softly, “feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Hey Lou,” Harry replies carefully and he must be aware it’s the first time they’re seeing each other face to face, that they’re looking at each other straight in the eyes since he’s confessed so many things.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” Harry says stiffly. “It’s nice to be able to see the sky again.”

Louis chuckles. “That’s true,” he says, looking up to stare at it for a second. “You can get back to work tonight!” he adds too cheerfully, hoping Harry will pick up on the sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Harry replies with a sad face, lowering his eyes like he doesn’t want Louis to what’s in them.

“I’m sorry,” Louis mumbles. “I know you hate it here,” he adds, folding his arms across his chest.

Harry frowns. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yes, but-”

“It’s not what I said at all,” he insists, interrupting Louis with a worried look in his eyes. “Don’t think about what I said yesterday. Just forget it, please.”

“I can’t. I feel responsible for you.”

Harry snorts. “You’re not,” he says gently. “It’s sweet, but you’re not. And I don’t hate _everything_ in here. Far from it.”

“You don’t,” Louis asks and Harry gives him a fond look before shaking his head, a delicate blush colouring his cheeks.

“You still want to go home though,” Louis says sadly.

Harry gulps. “It’s home,” he says with a small shrug.


	10. Chapter Nine

“What does this means?” Harry asks one sunny afternoon, puckering his mouth and making a smacking sound in the imitation of a kiss. His arms are crossed on the deck, his head resting on them and his tail absently moving slowly back and forth in the water.

“You don’t know what a kiss is?” Louis asks with a small smile from where’s sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the deck, eyes squinting against the brightness of the sun.

Harry shrugs with a pout. “I’ve seen people do it before… Lux used to against my tank. You did it too, on my hand… but I don’t know what it’s for.”

Louis nods in understanding and bites his lips, trying to come up with a clear way to explain the meaning of the gesture without embarrassing himself thoroughly. “Well, it’s a way of showing affection. You kiss the people you love. It can be on the cheek or the hand-”

“Niall and Zayn do it on the mouth,” Harry interrupts casually, with a bright spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“That’s mostly because they’re in love. It’s a bit more special on the mouth… but not always. It depends really,” Louis shrugs, unwilling to launch himself into an explanation of casual carnal pleasures or different family traditions.

“Sounds complicated,” Harry pouts, biting slightly at his lower lip.

Louis laughs at the adorable confusion on his face. “Sometimes,” he agrees with a smirk, “but mostly it just means I love you… I’m there… you’re important to me,” Louis lists, feeling his throat close up a bit when he remembers kissing Harry’s hand. “It’s just a way to show affection.”

Harry nods into his arms with fluttery eyelids. “We have something for that too,” he says slowly.

“Yeah?” Louis asks with a smile and an eyebrow raise. “What is it?” he asks, always curious to learn more about merfolk’s culture.

Harry nods again before dropping his gaze to the wooden deck for a second. He sneaks a glance at Louis’ face and bites his lips, seemingly debating something with himself before shrugging and raising his torso entirely out of the water. He reaches for Louis’ face with pink cheeks and rubs their noses together once, twice, three times before letting himself fall back into the water entirely and swimming to the opposite side of the pool.

Louis blinks confusedly for a beat before feeling himself redden slightly. Did Harry just kiss him?

 

*

 

No matter how much he tries to stop thinking about it, Louis can’t get Harry’s mermaid kiss out of his mind. He’s tried telling himself it means nothing, tried forgetting the whole thing altogether, but it’s been days now and every night when he goes to sleep he sees it beneath his closed eyelids. He sees it over and over again and he wonders.

Did Harry mean anything by it? Was it merely a friendly gesture or…. ?

And it’s this _or_ that haunts Louis the most. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed the way his heart skips a beat when Harry smiles or how he makes Louis laugh more than anyone else. He’s noticed his beautiful kindness despite the hardships, the light in his eyes that refuses to be extinguished and the steel resolution not to let anyone in this place crush his spirits or steal his soul. Harry is the bravest person Louis has ever met, far braver than he is. Because Louis knows how he feels, he’s known for a long time now. He’s chosen to ignore it because it was too complicated for him to even contemplate, but he knows.

Now, armed with the knowledge those feelings might be returned, Louis can’t pretend anymore. He can’t pretend like he hasn’t seen Harry’s blushing face as their nose rubbed together, he can’t pretend like he doesn’t know what it means in his culture.

And even so, what’s the point of wondering if Louis is leaving soon? What’s the point of entertaining the possibility if he’s going to abandon Harry in a few short weeks?

Louis groans, sitting up on his bed and hitting his head against the wall. He can’t sleep, a thousand ideas and possibilities swimming in his mind, each more complex and crazy than the last. The truth of the matter is, Louis doesn’t want to leave Harry. Not now, not ever. But he also knows Harry can’t stay here forever, nor does he want to.

He sighs, heart beating wildly in his chest, feeling more lost now than ever and obsessing over the one thing that should matter the least in this whole mess.

Does Harry have feelings for him?

 

*

 

“You look terrible,” Zayn tells him the next day at lunch.

Louis looks up from his plate for half a second, just long enough to glare at him in response, before continuing to ignore his surroundings. He’s too tired and cranky to deal with Zayn’s interrogation. Unfortunately for him, they’re alone right now. Neither Niall or Liam are present to offer a distraction. They left a few minutes ago, giggling loudly and saying something about giving Harry a lemon to taste and how hilarious his reaction was going to be, abandoning Louis with Zayn’s knowing eyes as his only companion.

“Having some trouble sleeping?” Zayn says casually as his fork clinks against the plate.

Louis grits his teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course not,” Zayn laughs. “Besides, I’m not the one you have to talk to,” he adds a bit too knowingly.

“What?” Louis says, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

“I warned you, remember?” Zayn says seriously and Louis isn’t sure what he means.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies helplessly.

Zayn gives him a pointed look. “Just go talk to Harry and be honest with him for once.”

Louis just stares at Zayn and doesn’t move for a few seconds.

“Now,” Zayn adds with authority and without thinking about it, Louis gets out of his chair.

He’s right. Louis needs to talk to Harry.

*

“Lou!” Harry exclaims happily when he sees him. “You’ll never guess what Liam and Niall gave me earlier, it was so disgusting!” he says with a loud laugh.

“Why did you kiss me?” Louis blurts out before he can hesitate.

Harry’s face falls at the sharp tone and he blinks back at Louis silently.

Niall’s eyes widen and he gives Liam a warning look. “We’ll leave you two alone,” he whispers, dragging Liam behind him as they run down the stairs.

Harry doesn’t move from where he’s sitting on the deck, he just starts fiddling nervously with his hands and turns his head away from Louis to stare at the water. He shrugs and Louis sighs, deflating, and follows Harry’s gaze to look at the small prison where he has to live.  

“It’s been driving me crazy,” Louis admits with a weak chuckle before taking his shoes off and dropping next to Harry, shuddering when his feet first hit the water.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replies absently and he still refuses to look at Louis in the eyes.

“Don’t be. Please don’t be,” Louis begs, reaching for one of Harry’s hands and tangling their fingers together. “I just… I can’t bear not knowing what it meant. If you were joking or if you…” he trails off, feeling himself blush but not taking his eyes off Harry’s profile, admiring the straight slope of his nose, the sharp definition of his jaw and the plumpness of his lips.

Harry gulps.

“Look at me,” Louis asks softly. “Harry.”

When he does, his eyes are shining with something Louis has never seen before. He doesn’t have the time to ask though because Harry lets go of his hand and reaches up to grab Louis’ face, dragging him into a soft, hesitant kiss. Louis’ heart stops beating as he feels their lips pressing together, Harry’s mouth tentatively opening in a gasp against his. He’s clearly never done this before but it hardly matters. They kiss softly, slowly, and Louis feels warm all over, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

“You…” Louis gasps when they separate and Harry smiles shyly.

“That’s why I kissed you,” he replies, smacking their lips together loudly again and giggling. “Because I wanted to and I like you a lot.”

Louis smiles, heart in his throat and eyes crinkling. He could never leave. Not anymore, not when he feels like this.

“Me too,” he whispers, pressing their forehead together and trying to ignore the little voice in his head that reminds him Harry still doesn’t know the whole truth about Louis, still doesn’t know he’s here under false pretense.

Harry giggles again and reaches for him, tries to kiss him again but Louis pushes him away slightly.

“Wait,” he says, putting his hand on Harry’s chest, feeling the thunderous beats of his heart. “I … uh…” Louis closes his eyes and for a second, he wonders if this is the right thing to do, if he shouldn’t just pretend like there’s nothing more to tell. He’s been lying for weeks though and the thought of kissing Harry again while he doesn’t know the truth is simply unbearable.

“What is it?” Harry whispers and he bites at his lower lips nervously, staring at Louis with big confused eyes.

“I have to come clean,” Louis replies with an awkward laugh.

“Oh,” Harry says and he frowns, looking puzzled. He turns his head towards the pool. “I wouldn’t do this here, though, the water isn’t that clear, it’s not a good place to have a wash."

He says it so seriously it makes Louis snorts. He rolls his eyes fondly. “No, I… It means I have to confess something, I have to tell you the truth."

“The truth about what?” Harry asks innocently and he doesn’t seem to be understanding the gravity of the situation, but Louis isn’t worried. Unfortunately, soon enough he will.

‘About why I came here,” Louis admits. “It wasn’t just an accident, I came for you.”

Harry laughs, nose scrunching and a disbelieving expression on his face. “What?” he squeaks.

“I’m a professor, at Oxford. It’s a big university, a place of learning?” Louis explains hesitantly, hating the way Harry’s smile drops off his face and he starts looking cautious. “I…. I always believed in creatures like you, ever since I was a kid. But no one felt the same. When I heard this freak-show claimed to have a merman, I knew I had to take a look. I didn’t expect you to be real, but there you were.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry whispers but the way his eyes look betrayed and the way his hands are shaking scream the opposite.

“I thought I could use you, your existence, to prove I was right about supernatural creatures. I figured I would study you for a while and write a paper about mermaids and -”

“You’re joking, right?” Harry says shakily, his eyes filling with tears. “You took care of me for an _experiment_?” he asks, leaning away when Louis tries to reach for him.

“I don’t feel that way anymore,” Louis says desperately. “Harry, I swear, I haven’t seen you that way in weeks. I stopped taking notes about everything we talked about ages ago."

Harry sobs when he hears the word _notes_ and he puts his hand on his mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

“I’m so sorry love,” Louis whispers, reaching for him again but he shakes his head, refusing Louis’ touch.

“Don’t touch me,” he replies in a high, panicked voice.

“I know I should have told you before, but I couldn’t… especially not after we got so close,” Louis tries to explain.

“Wait,” Harry asks, eyes widening. “How did you get me this pool? Do they know you’re here to do _research_?” He sneers on the last word, face twisting in an ugly grimace. It’s the first time Louis has seen him truly angry.

“No!”

“Then how?”

Louis sighs because this is probably the worst part, the one that kept nagging at the back of his mind, making him feel like an awful person.

“I told them I could make them more money,” he admits sadly. “That I’d show you how to do tricks for the audience.”

“Go,” Harry says tearfully, his hands curled into tight, shaky fists.

“No,” Louis begs, tears streaming down his face. “I never planned on actually doing it, I was just using them to make things better for you.”

“Like you were using me to make things better for yourself?

“It’s different. Harry, I would never have hurt you. I was just curious and once I got to know you I started changing my mind.”

Harry doesn’t react to what Louis is saying. He just lets himself slides into the water and disappears beneath the surface. For a second, Louis thinks he won’t come back up.

When he does, though, he looks even angrier.

“I want you to leave.”

“Listen to me,” Louis insists, not even trying to hide his desperation. “Harry, please. Let me explain, yeah?”

“I don’t want to,” Harry replies, eyes murderous. “And if you’ve truly stopped seeing me as a _thing_ to study, you should be able to respect that.”

Louis closes his eyes for a second and nods. “Alright,” he whispers, getting up on shaky legs.

“Alright,” he repeats as he leaves.

 

*

 

When he gets back to his caravan, Louis’ hands are shaking. He walks in, breathing fast and loud, trying to stop himself from crying. He’s done enough of that for today and he needs to get a grip on himself. He starts pacing in front of his bed, upset, troubled and when he catches a glimpse of Zayn’s portrait of Harry in the corner of his eyes, he groans and reaches for it, ripping it from the wall violently. Louis lets out a long frustrated cry that transforms into a sob, throwing the drawing to the ground and letting himself fall next to it.

He’s ruined everything.

*

 

The next morning, when he goes to visit Harry, the merman refuses to get out of the water. Louis sits on the deck staring at him swimming along the length of the pool for an hour, feeling more and more nauseous with each second that passes and Harry keeps on ignoring him, before nodding to himself and leaving. He opens a package of oysters and krill and leaves them both on the deck for Harry to see, then he starts walking to the kitchen tent to get his own breakfast.

He’s not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but Louis figures he’s going to have to face his friends eventually so he does his best to look neutral and he joins the queue, silently nodding at Lou when she waves at him.

When he sits down at their table, Zayn and Niall stop speaking and stare at him.

“I look that bad,” Louis huffs.

“What happened?” Niall asks in a shrill voice, eyes as round as the apple Zayn is holding.

“I told Harry the truth,” Louis admits, giving Zayn a sad look, “and now he hates me.”

“What?” Niall gasps, giving Zayn an incredulous look.

“Apparently saying to someone that you had plans to use them for research is really bad, even you’ve changed your mind since then,” Louis says slowly, feeling a new burn of shame at the admission. Thankfully, neither Zayn or Niall comments on his confession. “Who knew?” he adds self-deprecatingly.

“What are you going to do?”

Louis shrugs at Zayn. “Well, he clearly doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, but I’ll try again tonight. Hopefully, if I manage to explain my point of view he’ll be able to forgive me.”

But when he goes to beg for Harry’s forgiveness again after the show, he’s met with a gruesome, confusing sight.


	11. Chapter Ten

That night, instead of finding Harry patiently waiting for him on his back, the tank is wide open and Ben is inside the tent. Louis doesn’t think Ben has been inside Harry’s tent once ever since the first time he’s caught him towering over the frightened merman. But it’s not his mere presence that has Louis so shocked.

His head is submerged in the water, his body awkwardly bent over the tank and Harry’s arms tightly wrapped around his neck. They’re struggling, fighting in this awkward embrace, and Louis can see the way Harry’s face is twisted by fury, the way he keeps on tightening and tightening his arms around Ben’s neck. He’s holding on tenaciously, ensuring Ben can’t come back up despite his best effort to break free. It’s a fight to the death and it doesn’t look like Harry is letting go anytime soon.

“Fuck!” Louis yells as he runs to the tank and grabs Ben’s shoulder, trying to pull him out of the water.

He barely moves, at first; the grip Harry has on him too tight, too forceful, and for a second Louis’ heart drops in his chest.

“Come on,” he mumbles to himself, pulling even harder.

For a long frightening moment, it looks like it won’t work until Harry’s arms loosen and both Louis and Ben tumble backwards, falling on top of each other. Louis is about to get off Winston’s body when he’s violently pushed to the side.

“Get off of me!” Ben yells, panting.

“You’re welcome,” Louis replies through gritted teeth, getting on his knees to give him a dirty look.

Ben looks beyond furious. He can’t seem to catch his breath and there are angry red marks on his neck where Harry held on to him. It doesn’t look good, but it’s not Louis’ priority.

He gets up and carefully approaches the tank, hoping Harry has calmed down a little, enough so he can explain what happened. When their eyes finally meet through the glass, Louis is surprised by the intensity of the anger he’s met with. It’s so staggering, so powerful, that he instinctively takes a step back. He thought Harry was mad at him the day before, but this is a completely new realm of fury.

From behind him, he can hear Ben getting up and mumbling insults and curses under his breath, but he can’t keep his eyes away from Harry. It’s only when Ben starts leaving that Louis’ gaze drops from Harry’s face, following the shape of his body, and noticing the blood on his tail for the first time.

He turns around without a second glance towards the tank.

"What the hell were you doing?" Louis accuses furiously, quickly following Ben outside the tent.

"What was I doing?" Ben yells, turning around and towering over Louis. "What about what that beast was doing?" he adds with an angry sneer, pointing indignantly towards the open flap.

Louis takes a deep shaky breath, trying to call himself. "Harry is not a beast," he says slowly, fist tightly clenched on either side of his body. He’s been wanting to punch Mr. Winston ever since he first saw him interacting with Harry all those weeks ago, but the desire has never been this sharp or intense before.

He knows whatever wrong Harry has done must have been provoked. There’s no way he would ever hurt somebody gratuitously like that.The blood traces on his tail are only proof.

“Harry,” Winston repeats mockingly. “Like it deserves a name. It’s a monster.”

“You shut your mouth,” Louis replies angrily, taking a step closer until their chests are pressed together, both of them breathing heavily against each other.

“Or what?” Ben sneers, looking down at Louis like he’s an annoying bug he could easily crush.

“Or I’ll shut it myself!”

Ben snickers. “Right.”

“What were you doing to him?” Louis asks again, ignoring Winston’s taunting.

“It attacked me,” Ben insists again. “I was only trying to rip some of its scales off,” he adds like it’s not a big deal like it’s not disgusting of him to even try to.

Louis inhales deeply. “You fucking bastard.”

“It’s not like it needs all of them,” Ben says, casual and mean-spirited, and this is it, this is the thing that makes Louis lose all sense.

He pushes Ben, hard, and he clearly didn’t expect Louis to physically respond because his eyes widen in surprise before he tumbles and falls.

“You-” Ben starts saying madly as he tries to get back up, but Louis is quicker.

He doesn’t even think about the repercussion of what he’s doing, doesn’t even think about the fact that Ben Winston is taller and stronger than him. He just drops on top of him and lands a good punch on his jaw. Ben groans from the blow, spitting blood on the ground before reaching for Louis' collar.

"You little shit," he says before overpowering him and turning them around so he can sit on top of Louis, his weight unpleasant and crushing.

He looks crazed, deranged, eyes wild and breath laboured. He grabs around Louis' throat, just staring at him for a second without putting any pressure. He's scary like this, it's true, but Louis is so angry he can't even register that fact. He's fuming, trying to squirm away, kicking and kicking in the hope he'll be able to shake Ben off, pushing against his torso with all the strength he has.

It doesn't work. Ben just laughs at the attempts, squeezing a little around Louis' neck, not enough to cut off his air supply yet, just a hint to try and scare him.

"I knew it was a mistake. Trusting you," Ben says slowly. "Simon didn't listen but I knew you'd cause trouble the minute you started defending that thing."

Louis groans, struggling to stand up despite the weight on his chest. "Fuck you," he ends up spitting when it becomes apparent that he won't be able to move.

How dare he? Louis doesn't think he's ever been this angry in his whole life. How can Winston stand there and pretend like this is okay, like what they're doing isn't reprehensible? How could he just admit to hurting Harry like it was nothing? And then turn against Louis like he's the one at fault? It makes him want to vomit.

"How dare you?" Louis says, voicing some of his outrage. "What gives you the right to treat him like this? You're the beast."

"Oh stop it, Tomlinson," Ben pouts exaggeratingly, squeezing even tighter. "You're gonna make me cry."

"Let me go," Louis says threateningly, punching him in the stomach.

Ben winces for a second before starting to laugh.

"Listen to him," Simon Cowell's voice comes from behind them and Louis hadn't even heard him coming but suddenly there he is. "Ben, let him go," he adds angrily, walking until he's next to them and Louis can give him a side look.

He’s seething at the both of them.

"Now," Cowell adds, using his cane to hit both of their ankles.

Louis winces at the strength of the blow, but he's relieved to feel the grip around his neck loosen and the weight on his chest disappear. He turns around, away from Cowell and Winston, stopping to pant on all fours for a second before starting to slowly get up. He rubs a hand on his neck, feeling the phantom ache of Ben's fingers around it still.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Cowell asks and it takes a second for Louis to realise he's talking to both of them. He sounds calm and composed, but his eyes are furious when they pause on each of them.

Louis opens his mouth to drag Ben to hell, to expose him as the sadistic creep that he truly is but he doesn't have the time before Cowell speaks again.

"My caravan. Now," he says pointedly, turning around and starting to limp towards his home.

Louis inhales sharply. He wants to check up on Harry, wants to make sure he's feeling okay and that his wound isn't bleeding anymore but he fears that if he doesn't tell his version of events as quickly as possible, Simon will believe his associate without question. He gives Harry's tent a worried look for a second before following them both.

 

*

 

“Explain,” Cowell says once they’re all inside. He’s staring at Ben specifically and it makes Louis even more furious.

“The beast attacked me!” Ben declares in outrage.

Louis’ mouth drops open. “After you tried to rip some of his scales off! He was defending himself!”

“Then this idiot attacked me too,” Ben continues, pointing at Louis. “Trying to defend its honour or something stupid like that.”

Louis groans. "Maybe you'd like to mention I saved your life before I punched you."

Ben turns to face Louis, glee in his eyes. "So you admit that thing was endangering my life then?"

Louis inhales slowly before smiling sarcastically. "I should have let him drown you."

"Will you stop bickering like children? You're an embarrassment to this establishment, both of you," Simon yells, interrupting their violent back and forth.

"We have to do something about that thing," Ben replies, a bit calmer now. He only has eyes for Simon. "He attacked you. Now he attacked me?"

"Sir," Louis interrupts, desperately, not liking the turn the conversation is taking. "Mr. Winston attacked Harry, purposefully intending to harm him! Under those circumstances, I think we can both agree that his actions were of self-defense and don't reflect his true character."

Simon gives him a silencing look.

"I know you like to think of yourself as responsible for the thing and it's true I've entrusted you with part of that burden but don't pretend you know what truly goes on here. Or that you have the right to comment on it. Ben didn't attack the creature intending to cause harm, quite the opposite. We both made a business decision together that it would be wise to acquire some of its scales to add to the products we sell."

"What?" Louis gasps, feeling like he's going to throw up. He's always known they were terrible people but he still feels blindsided by the extent of their disgusting greedy nature.

"Don't look so shocked," Simon sneers. "It's a business decision," he repeats. "It makes sense."

"You're despicable," Louis replies slowly, disgust painted on every inch of his face.

Ben and Simon share a silent look.

"And you're fired, Mr. Tomlinson," Simon replies nonchalantly.

Louis' heart stops beating. He can't be. He can't leave Harry here, can't leave him alone at the mercy of those horrible people.

"Why?" he asks shakily.

"Are you seriously asking?" Ben says, looking halfway between surprised and amused. "You attacked me."

"I got angry, but-"

"You're not on our side Louis," Simon states calmly. "You never have been."

"He's better now that I'm here," Louis argues because it's true. Harry's gained weight, his healthy glow radiating even through the glass of the tank. And he's happier too. It's not ideal like complete freedom from this place would be, but Louis knows his presence assures him some comforts. Who knows what they'll do if Louis leaves?

"I don't care if he's better," Simon says mockingly. "I care that he makes me money."

"He makes you more money than ever! He's happier out there, making kids giggle and grown ups awed! I did that."

"Yes, and I thank you for it. But your goal isn't aligned with ours and I'm afraid it can't be allowed to go on. You've proven today that if the choice has to be made between our profit and that thing, you wouldn't support us."

Louis smiles angrily, so furious that he's shaking with it. "Damn right I wouldn't."

"You know where the door is. I want you gone by morning."

The last thing he sees before leaving is Ben's smirking and satisfied face as he closes the door behind him.

 

*

 

“Fuck,” Louis mumbles shakily once he’s outside the caravan, passing a trembling hand through his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He doesn’t know what to do or what to think but there’s one thing he’s sure of: he can’t leave. There’s just no way. After what he’s heard… He looks at the now closed caravan.

He doesn't know what his plan is going to be, but one thing he's sure of is that he needs to know theirs. If he's still going to keep Harry safe somehow, he needs to know what they're up to which is why he presses an ear against the door as silently as possible, trying to decipher their conversation and praying to a God he's never known if he believes in that they won't catch him in the act. There's more than his job at stake if they see him doing this. But he doesn't care. Harry is more important.

The voices are mumbled at first and it takes him a moment to get used to it and make something intelligible out.

"This can't go on," Ben is arguing, voice much softer now that Louis is gone. "It's a liability more than an asset now," he says and Louis gulps.

This can't be good. It can't be good at all.

"How can you say this when our audience has never been so high?" Simon protests. "I don't like the thing more than you do but it's changed everything for us. Just because it tried to drown you doesn't change that."

Ben hums. "What about your leg?" he asks and Louis would pay a lot of money to be able to Simon Cowell's face in that moment. Louis can easily imagine the cold angry stare. Any mentions of his injured leg are, after all, prohibited. Or so it always has seemed.

"What about it?" Simon replies shortly.

"How long did the doctor say you have until you have to cut it?"

The silence is deafening

"It's dangerous Simon. You know it is."

"You complained about Louis for loving that thing too much, but you have the same problem you know. You have the same passion except you hate it. I'm apparently the only one here with a clear enough mind to see things fairly."

"Don't tell me you like it after what it did to you?" Ben argues and he doesn't deny his blind hatred which makes Louis takes a sharp breath. To think he used to be in charge of Harry, of his precious, beautiful, miraculous Harry.

"I think it's a disgusting abomination of nature. I think it's a mistake and I'd like to peel each of its little scales off one by one while looking at it in the eye as it suffers. But I'm a reasonable man. And I like my business going well more than I hate that thing. We are not getting rid of it."

Rid of it? Louis thinks in a panic. How? Why? They can't get rid of Harry. Where would he go? He can't let that happen.

"This is my business too, Simon-"

"We are not getting rid it," Simon repeats slowly, interrupting Ben's whining.

Louis waits, worried about the sudden silence in the room. What do they mean, getting rid of it? Suddenly, he hears Winston starting to chuckle and he shivers at the noise. This can't be a good sign.

"We're idiots," he says self-deprecatingly. "I know what we have to do. It's the perfect plan."

"What is?"

"We have to stuff it. It can't grow old or decay if it's dead and it’s done properly. It can't cause trouble. Or cost us money for food," Ben explains enthusiastically like this is truly something brilliant, like they're actually considering this.

It's only when Simon starts laughing too that Louis realises that they’re serious.

"My boy, what a marvelous idea! We'll have to kill it carefully, though, can't break the merchandise," is what he replies and Louis? Louis doesn't stick around to hear the rest.

He needs to get Harry out of here. Now.

 

*

 

He doesn't care how suspicious he looks as he runs faster than he's ever run, through the caravans then through the gate, not even stopping for the yelling guard. They're going to hurt Harry, more than ever before, and he might have played their games and been their enablers in the past but not anymore. Not now. Not for this. Harry is too precious, too special for him to let it happen. And even if he weren't, even if Louis didn't care for him more than he's cared for another being in a really long time, if ever, they're still casually discussing the murder of an innocent person. Louis can't stomach the thought of standing by and letting it happen.

So he runs.

When he barges through Harry's tent, out of breath and terrified, Harry isn't looking much better. The tank is still open and he's sitting in, arms wrapped around himself protectively, trying to make himself smaller. He barely glances at him before turning his head away, resting his chin on the edge of the tank. Louis can see the blood on his tail and he knows what it symbolises now, he knows why it happened, and the mere sight of it makes him feel ashamed of his association with those men.

"Harry," he whispers from the entrance, hoping he'll turn around. He doesn't and Louis closes his eyes for a second to stop himself from crying. They don't have the time for this.

He takes a few steps forward before speaking again.

"Are you okay?" he asks shakily because even though there's little time, there's always going to be some for this.

"Like you care," Harry whispers angrily and Louis feels like he's just been slapped. He knew he should have checked up on Harry the second Ben stepped down from the fight.

"How can you say that?" Louis replies with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's made a lot of mistakes, it's true. But how can Harry even think that?

"Do you want to look at my wounds?" Harry asks, turning his angry eyes towards Louis.

"I want to make sure you're okay, of course," he agrees, walking the few steps left to reach the tank.

"So you can write it down in your little book?" Harry asks. They are tears in his eyes and Louis put them there. "So you can tell all your friends at Oxford what happens when people tear me apart? Don't worry," he adds bitterly. "The scales grow back so it's not like it matters."

"Harry, of course, it matters. You've been hurt."

"Did you ask Ben to do it?" he continues tauntingly. "You're part of their little team, right?"

"How can you say that?" Louis whispers and he wishes they had figured this out earlier because there's no time for this and yet. It seems to be the only thing that matters.

"Just go."

"I'm sorry Swimmy but I can't do that," he replies apologetically.

"Don't call me that," Harry sniffs.

"What I did? Unforgivable. I know, I understand. I betrayed your trust. I used you. It was wrong and I'm never forgiving myself for it. But right now you have to listen to me, because if you don't, something terrible is going to happen."

Harry doesn't reply. He just laughs.

"I'm stuck here, have been for months. Something terrible already has happened."

"I should have broken you free the moment I saw you," Louis replies sadly.

He's known it all along. Every second he's spent observing Harry, every second he's worked for them, he was allowing this injustice to happen. He tried to justify it to himself in the name of science and his passion but... there is no excuse for it.

It takes Harry by surprise to hear him say it.

Louis laughs brokenly. "I should have. I knew it was wrong, but I got the opportunity to know you and to understand your species and... I thought because I was making things better for you that I could detach myself from them, but I can't. You trusted me and I shit all over it. I'm sorry. Harry, I'm so sorry."

"You mean it, don't you?" Harry asks carefully and Louis can only nod sadly as tears roll down his cheeks.

He shakes his head, eyes closed for a second before he starts rubbing his cheek with a shaky hand.

"They're going to kill you, Harry," Louis says seriously.

"What?"

"They want to ... keep your body, preserve it to show people."

Harry's face falls, his eyes widening in terror.

"I'm not going to let them," Louis declares fiercely and he doesn't think he's ever meant something more in his entire life.

Harry gulps, still distrustful. "You also promised Ben wouldn't hurt me anymore," he challenges, eyes dropping to his wound.

"I know. And it probably doesn't mean much to you but please know that when I made that promise, I meant it. And I tried. I really did."

Harry nods, slowly. "I believe you,” he agrees carefully.

Louis smiles sadly, reaching to stroke Harry's hair before remembering he's probably not allowed anymore. He lets his hand drop to his side.

"How are we going to stop them?" Harry asks in a little hesitant voice and it seems daunting, of course. Just the two of them against the whole freak show.

Louis gulps. "I'm going to get you back home. Like I should have from the start," he says, offering his hand for Harry to shake.

He eyes it uncertainly.

“I know you have no reason to trust me when I say this, but I promise I’ll take you home,” Louis says shakily, hoping, praying, that Harry will agree, will take his hand and chose to trust him again.

Harry hums, giving Louis a long look. “Okay,” he replies slowly, wrapping his fingers around Louis’.

 

*

 

It’s more complicated than that, of course. If they want to successfully get Harry back to the sea, they’ll need some help. And there are only a handful of people in here Louis trusts. So he grabs Harry tightly, mindful of the wound on his tail and they silently get out of the tent and start walking sneakily towards Zayn’s. He and Niall usually hang out there after the show for privacy and Louis can only hope that they’re going to be willing to lend a hand.

“Are you okay?” he whispers once they’re almost there.

“I’m fine,” Harry says, body tensed and as cuddled up to Louis as possible.

“I know you don’t like being out of the water. I’m sorry.”

“If it means I can go home, I can deal with some stupid fear,” Harry whispers fiercely once they’re in front of Zayn’s tent.

Louis doesn’t even think about what he could interrupt, he just walks in with Harry’s in his arms and a desperate look on his face.

“Help me,” he begs as Niall and Zayn stop snogging and give him an identical shocked look.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks, eyeing Harry nervously.

“We have to get him out,” Louis says, not pausing for breath.

“What?” Niall says. He looks at Zayn and makes a confused grimace to him.

“They want to stuff him. Put his body on display...”

“Oh my god,” Niall gasps, putting a hand on his mouth.

“We can’t let that happened,” Louis continues. Harry’s hair is tickling his neck and he can’t imagine a world where he’s not there for that to happen, where Harry isn’t there to smile to children anymore or to hum foreign songs.

“Will you help us?” Harry asks, soft and hopeful.

Zayn looks torn, a distressed expression on his face, and he’s doing his best to avoid looking at them straight on.

“If we help you we lose our jobs. Or worst.”

“If you don’t, he dies,” Louis says desperately, holding on to Harry a little tighter. “Please, I can’t do it on my own. We have to get him out of here while we still can.”

“Of course, we’ll help, but we’ve got to act quickly,” Niall agrees easily and Zayn gives him a shocked look.

“Niall-”

‘You hate it here,” Niall interrupts, turning around to face him. “You’ve always hated it here.”

Zayn sighs shakily. “Where would we go?”

“Does it matter?”

“Simon might come after us,” Zayn argues and Louis doesn’t want to imagine what he’s seen in a lifetime with _Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza!_ to make him so afraid of Simon. He’s only been here one summer and he already has witnessed enough cruelty to last him a lifetime.

“Then we’ll go far away,” Niall says softly. “We’ll disappear.”

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” Zayn says wetly.“ How to be anyone else,” he adds.

The freak show has been his whole world for as long as he’s lived. Louis can’t imagine the courage required to reject that notion.

“’Course you do,” Niall replies, bringing a hand to his cheek, rubbing away his tears with his thumb. “You’re not a stupid character Simon invented, you can do whatever you want.”

Zayn snorts. “Right,” he says, looking away, trying to shake Niall’s hand off.

“Hey, look at me,” Niall says sternly, waiting until he has eye contact again before continuing. “I mean it. He doesn’t actually own you. And who you are every night for him doesn’t have to be your life forever.”  

It’s heart-wrenching to see Zayn struggling so much with this idea, to think that he’s had years and years to be molded by Cowell’s expertly manipulative hands until he felt more like an image than a person. It’s heartbreaking and yet. Louis doesn’t have the time, _Harry_ doesn’t have the time. They need to leave. They need to leave now before Simon and Ben notice. Not to mention that the longer Harry isn’t in the water, the more nervous he gets, twitching uncomfortably in Louis’ arms. He can claim to be fine a thousand times, Louis knows he’s frightened.

“I’m scared,” Zayn admits and Louis’ heart lurches.

“I know baby,” Niall whispers before reaching for him and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “And that’s why we have to go. If they can plan to kill Harry what’s to say they won’t hurt us eventually? We can’t trust them. We never could.”

Zayn gulps before nodding. He turns towards Louis and Harry with an apologetic expression and unshed tears still in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Of course, we’ll help, I just…”

“It’s fine,” Harry says into Louis’ neck, tightening his arms around it. “I understand. Thank you for saying that.”

“We have to be fast,” Niall replies firmly. “We’ll never be able to go if they notice he’s missing.”

Louis is quick to agree. “We need something to carry Harry in. He’s fine out the water for now, but we’ll need something for the trip to the coast. Niall, can you take care of that?”

Niall nods. “I’ll ask Liam. He’ll have a good idea and maybe he can create a distraction. That is if you trust him enough?”

Louis barely has to think about it. Liam has a good heart. He wouldn’t betray them when a life is at stake. He’s about to reply when he realises Niall wasn’t speaking to him at all.

“Yes,” Harry says. “I trust him.”

“I’ll get back as soon as possible,” Niall replies before kissing Zayn and exiting the tent.

Zayn looks fidgety as soon as Niall leaves, giving Harry and Louis some sideway glances and nervously playing with his hair.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Louis asks hesitantly. He needs them all to be on board, fully. It’s essential. Harry’s life literally depends on it.

“Yes,” he replies, looking tense, and Louis glances at Harry to share a worried look with him. “I don’t like this,” Zayn continues. “We don’t have a plan. We don’t have money. We don’t have supplies…”

“You’re right,” Louis says pensively. “Winston keeps some cash in a drawer in his office,” he says, remembering that day, so long ago, when he begged Ben for money to feed Harry and the casual way he took out a stash from the drawer of his desk.

“No,” Zayn gasps, eyes widening. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Still, you’re right. We’re gonna need money and we’re gonna need supplies. My salary has been used to feed Harry from the start so we can’t use that,” Louis argues back.

“What?” Harry interrupts, squirming in Louis’ arms. He’s starting to get a bit heavy, not that Louis would ever complain or let him go.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers for Harry’s ears only before dropping a tiny kiss on his neck. “I brought a bit of cash with me when I got hired,” he adds louder for Zayn, the beginning of a more concrete plan starting to form in his mind. “It’s not going to be enough to sustain all of us for however long this is going to take, though. There’s five of us if Liam comes. I don’t know if you or Niall have a lot of savings, but you’re going to need them for after we’ve run away. What are we going to do? Walk to the coast? No. We need cash. We need food. Winston has the cash in his caravan and we know for a fact he’s planning with Simon in his right now. It’s our best chance.”

Zayn keeps shaking his head in denial, but Louis can tell he doesn’t have a better alternative.

“I’m not going to steal from him,” he says, voice shaking. “You don’t know them like I do. Trust me, you don’t want to get caught doing that.”

“They’re planning on the best way to kill Harry in order for his body to be as intact as possible for when they stuff him right this second!” Louis yells.

“Hush,” Harry says warningly, turning his head towards the opening of the tent.

Louis takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “All I’m saying is that I know exactly what type of people we are dealing with,” he whispers furiously.

“Then you know why I don’t want to do it,” Zayn whispers back and he’s shaking, from the nerves or the fear or both. “Fuck, why isn’t Niall back yet?” he adds weakly, knowing full well it hasn’t been long enough for him to have returned.

Louis sighs. There was never any doubt that he was going to be the one who would have to do this. “I’ll go, you stay with Harry and wait for Niall and Liam,” he says, walking to one of Zayn’s armchair and starting to lower Harry in it.

He tightens his arms around Louis’ neck for a second, unwilling to let go, before letting himself be seated in the chair. His tail has stopped bleeding, thankfully, but it’s desperately dry, losing its sparkle, looking unhealthy as it goes over the armrest and lies on the ground.

“You okay?” Louis asks, eyeing the tail worriedly. He’s never seen him be outside of the water this long, has never witnessed the effects of it before.

Harry nods slowly. “Not recommended,” he says with a weak smile. “But I can last a bit longer. Don’t worry.”

 _Easier said than done_ , Louis thinks bitterly. “I’ll be quick then,” he says instead, grabbing Harry’s fingers for a second.

He turns to Zayn, giving him a serious look.

“Be careful,” Zayn warns, sitting down in the second chair.

Louis nods firmly, giving Harry a last smile before exiting the tent quietly.


	12. Chapter Eleven

The site is blissfully still silent when Louis slips out. Ben and Simon clearly haven’t ventured outside of Simon’s caravan yet and Louis can only hope it will stay this way while he gathers the supplies they need.

He starts walking towards the gate discreetly, trying to think of ways to avoid the guard’s questions when it becomes clear that he’s going to have to avoid him entirely to make this work. He turns sharply, jogging to the fence and plants himself firmly in front of it, hands on his waist.

It's high but manageable.

It takes him three jumps in order to get a good enough grip, but after a bit of a silent struggle, he successfully passes through without a scratch, surprising even himself with this newfound burst of athleticism.

Once he's on the right side of the fence, he takes a moment to take in his surroundings, eyeing every row of caravans for traces of activity. It seems like everyone has already gone to bed. Actually, there is only Simon’s with lights still on and if Louis is right, it means that Ben is still in. If not, he’s about to get caught stealing and it’s going to take a lot of imagination for him to get out of that one. He doesn't think he's wrong, though, so he starts walking towards what he knows is Winston's home, eyes fixed on the ground, hoping it's enough to hide his face if anyone happens to be looking out their window.

He's surprised to find the door unlocked and he slips in quickly, relieved to find the whole place empty. Either Winston left in a hurry or he's too confident in his intimidation skills to even consider the possibility someone could walk in and take one of his belongings. Too bad Louis isn't scared of him.

He gets to the desk quickly and starts opening drawers randomly, trying to remember which one held the money. He has his answer pretty quickly when the fourth one he tries to open rattles slightly, unmoving.

"Okay," Louis mumbles. "I’m strong, I can do this."

He forces the drawer open in one swift movement, wincing at the noise and pausing for a second. Once he's certain no one has heard or cares, he starts looking through. There are a lot of papers, important papers by the look of it and it's not until he reaches the complete bottom that he finds an envelope full of cash. It's a lot, enough to keep them going for a few weeks.

"Thank you, Mr. Winston," Louis smirks as he pockets the cash.

Next stop is the kitchen. He sneaks in quickly, grabbing some bread and cheese and putting them in one of the kitchen’s staff’s bag. It might be unnecessary to bring supplies with the money they now have, but Louis doesn’t like the idea of letting it up to chance. He gets enough for the beginning of their journey, at least, just to be safe.

Even more important than food for them though is food for Harry. He doesn't have anything fresh left, but there are some seaweed jars on the deck of the pool that he knows will keep Harry filled until they can get some oysters or krills. Maybe shrimps if they get lucky.

He gets to the pool as easily as he has anywhere else. It’s almost too simple and it makes him jumpy and nervous, looking behind continuously, plagued by the paranoid thought that someone, somehow, must be following him. It cannot be this straightforward surely...

Louis shakes his head before climbing the steps to the deck quickly, grabbing the multiple jars and adding them to the bag he nicked from the kitchen. His heart jumps when he sees Harry's mug, the red flower in it miraculously still beautiful. It seems to be taunting Louis, a vicious flashback from a simpler time when Harry wasn't absolutely furious with him and when most days, he could ignore the guilt trying to claw its way out of his chest. It might not mean much to Harry anymore, but it was a gift and an important one for Louis. He can't stand leaving it here. He snatches it, putting a bit water in the soil before adding it to the top of the bag.

He's walking down the stairs, about to get back to Zayn's tent when he remembers his journal.

His journal where he wrote every single thing Harry ever told him about his species, pages, and pages filled with all the remarkable information he’s managed to learn: details about his family, about their habits, and, more importantly, their habitat. Every thing someone would need to know to capture themselves a mermaid and take care of it.

Louis can't leave without it.

He runs back to the caravans, hearts beating nervously in his chest at the thought of having to walk by Simon's to get to his. This is a bit riskier.

He holds his breath for the few seconds it takes him to crawl past it, letting out a relieved sigh when he finally gets to his door. He's almost done. They're almost out of here.

He reaches for his notebook, unwrapping it and throwing the shirt on the floor carelessly. He puts it back on the mattress to go get his suitcase, grabbing a few essentials. His money and clean clothes, just in case. He adds them to his bag, careful not to crush Harry's flower, before taking his journal in his hands again and leaving.

He can't jump over the fence with so many things to carry so he walks to the gate with his head down, hoping he walked by too fast previously for the guard to recognise him as the same person.

It all seems to be going down rather well until the man calls out to him just as he's about to walk away, having successfully passed through.

"Lots of traffic tonight," he teases lightheartedly.

Louis' eyes widen and he twists his face into a casual smile before turning back around.

"No rest for the wicked," he jokes back and thankfully the man laughs before waving him off.

Louis doesn't sigh until he's completely out of sight.

 

*

 

When he walks back into Zayn’s tent, everyone is waiting for him.

“Zayn said you went to get some money?” Liam asks. It’s clear from his tone that Zayn shared the exact nature of his plan and that he’s uncomfortable with it.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, dropping the bag on the ground. “I got some clean clothes and some food too.”

“Is it such a good idea?” Liam asks hesitantly.

“We don’t have a choice,” Louis says firmly. “If we stay Harry dies and I’m not gonna let that happen. Theft is reprehensible of course, but under the circumstances, I won’t lose any sleep over it. But if you’re too uncomfortable Liam, I understand. You don’t have to help us. Please just don’t tell them until we’ve gone.”

“Oh! No, no, no,” Liam replies with wide eyes. “That’s not what I meant at all. Of course, I’m coming. I just think taking the cash is making it worst if they ever catch us.”

“It wouldn’t be pretty if they caught us anyway,” Niall interrupts. “We all know that. And we need the money.”

“It’s true,” Zayn agrees painfully. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers from the chair. “You’re risking everything, your whole life, for me… I-”

“We want to,” Louis interrupts fiercely, taking a step towards Harry.

“Louis is right,” Liam says, kneeling next to the chair. He looks incredibly sad. “I’ve been trying to find a way to apologise for what I’ve done for a while now. I knew saying sorry would never be enough.”

Louis’ mind flashes back to the day he told Liam Harry was the one that deserved an apology for his involvement. Has Liam been thinking about this ever since? Has he been plagued by guilt the same way Louis has?

“It’s alright,” Harry says, clearly moved. His voice is shaking a bit and he’s biting his lower lip, head bowed down and eyes fixed on his tail, face partly obscured by a cascade of hair. It’s started to dry into long, beautiful curls. Louis always forgets how gorgeous it is like this.

“It’s not, though,” Liam sniffs. “It’s not alright. And we… I can’t erase what I’ve done, but maybe I can help and that can be enough for you to forgive me eventually.”

Harry nods before clearing his throat. “Yes,” he says, finally looking at Liam’s face.

Liam smiles happily, a wide toothy grin that makes him look years younger, all traces of sadness and discomfort gone from his face.

“Let’s do it then!” Niall explains, giving Zayn’s hip a small pat and joining Liam on his knee to fiddle with an empty bucket  Louis is only now noticing.

It looks a little too familiar. Louis remembers the night they needed it all too well. He remembers how badly Harry fitted in it too.

“This is the plan?” he asks, pointing towards the bucket. “How are we supposed to carry it? Or even fill it?”

He knows from various discussions with Harry that his family usually stay around the English and Bristol channels. The quickest way to get him back home is by train: from London Bridge station through Croydon and straight to Brighton and the shore. It’s a short journey, only a couple of hours, and it’s a direct line. There’s no way they’ll get away with bringing Harry in the train in something like this, though. And it’s hours until morning and the next departure.

Liam shrugs. “Niall asked for something big enough to carry him.”

“We’ll never be able to get him on the train in this,” Louis replies.

“The train?” Zayn asks. “Is that the plan then?”

Louis gives Harry a small look before opening his mouth. “Well, Harry’s family lives in the English and Bristol channels.” He raises an eyebrow towards the chair. “Right?”

“Yes, we don’t always stay in the exact same place but we never stray too far away.”

“Right,” Louis repeats. “That means the easiest and quickest way to get him there would be through-”

“Brighton,” Zayn interrupts.

“Exactly.”

“But we can’t carry him in the bucket ‘cause that would be too obvious,” Niall adds, getting up and staring at the bucket like it’s a complicated puzzle he still hasn’t been able to figure out.

“And they might just not let us in,” Liam says, following Niall’s lead and getting back on his feet too.

“How long is the train ride?”

They all turn to stare at Harry. He gives them a small smile before speaking again. “I can be out of the water longer,” he says, smile dropping a bit and looking strained.

Louis starts shaking his head before he’s even done speaking. “No.”

“Louis,” Harry says seriously.

“Absolutely not.”

“Louis,” Zayn interrupts carefully, putting one of his hands on Louis’ shoulder. “If Harry says he can, then he can. It’s what? An hour?”

“But-”

“If we can find somewhere to hide before morning,” Liam starts saying, a pensive look on his face.

“We could fill the bucket and let him rest until we can leave, that way he has a break in between!” Niall finishes with glee. “It’s brilliant!”

Louis sighs. He doesn’t like it, but even he can admit it’s the most logical plan. “I guess that could work,” he says reluctantly. “If you’re sure about it,” he adds towards Harry who nods, a determined look on his face.

“I am.”

Louis is about to ask again, just to be certain, just to make sure he’s not continuing to hurt Harry when he’s interrupted.

“What’s this?” Niall says, nodding towards the journal Louis still has clenched tightly in his hand.

“It’s my journal, all my observations about Harry and mermaids are in it,” Louis admits, still feeling a flash of shame at the thought.

Zayn frowns, giving Louis an angry look. “You went back for _that_?”

Harry’s face falls. It’s subtle, but Louis sees it. He ignores Zayn’s questions, pushing everyone out of the way to get to Harry and locking eyes with him before he opens his mouth.

“There’s a lot of sensitive information about you in it,” he admits with a sad smile. “I… I didn’t want them to have it. I didn’t want them using something I wrote against you.”

Harry’s face softens and his eyes water a little. He gulps, looking down for a second before meeting Louis’ gaze again. “Thank you,” he whispers, stroking a finger over Louis’ tense hand.

“Okay, not that your tragic romance isn’t enticing but we really have been wasting more time than we have,” Liam interrupts. “And we still don’t know how we’ll hide his tail to get on the train.”

Louis shakes his head, trying to get rid of the heavy weight of guilt pressing on his heart. “You’re right, we’ll figure it out on the way, we really have to go.”

Of course, it’s just as they’re about to leave the tent that frantic, shouting voices are heard right outside.

“Fuck,” Niall curses, running to the opening of the tent and trying to take a peek outside. “I think it’s Simon.”

“They know I’m gone.”  Harry gives Louis a troubled look.

“It’s fine.”

“Louis,” Zayn says warningly as the sounds of footsteps get louder and louder

“Nothing’s changed,” Louis whispers fiercely. “It’s going to be fine. We stick to the plan.”

“What plan? How are we even supposed to get out of here, let alone get to London Bridge Station?” Zayn says, voice getting higher and higher as he panics.

“If we make it through the main gate we can walk around the back and nick one of the carriages. They’re always out this time of night so the kitchen boys can go to the market as soon as the sun rises,” Liam explains in a slow calming voice.

“ _That’s_ the plan,” Louis tells Zayn, snapping his finger towards Liam.

“And how to we get to the carriage?” Zayn insists, looking greener every second.

Louis gives Niall a warning look, trying to silently express his concerns to him. He understands where Zayn is coming from, he really does.  It can’t be easy for him, planning to run away, especially when this is the only thing he’s ever known. But he needs them all to be in agreement here. This needs to work, there is no other option.

“We run,” Niall says, still looking outside. “Fast.”

Louis opens his bag of supplies and starts putting his journal in it. “I’m going to need someone to carry my bag while I carry Harry,” he starts saying. “And one of you need to get the bucket, Liam?”

“I’ll carry him,” Liam replies. “I’ll carry Harry.”

Louis laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m taller and stronger than you. It makes sense and you know it,” Liam says firmly. “Niall, can you take care of the bucket?”

Niall nods. “Our side seems clear, but I don’t know how long it’s going to last. They’re in Harry’s tent I think.”

"Then now is the time," Louis says. "Harry, ready?" he asks, worried at how pale the merman is starting to look. He nods enthusiastically though, raising his arms towards Liam in anticipation of being carried.

Louis takes a deep breath as he watches Liam lifting Harry, reminding himself that the feeling of jealousy stirring in his belly is not only inappropriate at a time like this, but also completely ridiculous.

Zayn grabs a bag that Louis can only assume he packed while they were waiting for him to come back and he takes the bucket, giving it to Niall as he gets to the tent's opening. Their fingers brush together as they make the exchange.

"It's going to work," Niall whispers, nodding confidently towards his lover.

"I hope so," Zayn replies with a small smile and a sharp inhale. He looks a bit more confident like he’s only now resigned himself to the craziness of their plan and he’s fully embracing it for the first time. It’s swift change from his uneasiness a few seconds ago, but Louis decides not to question it. He suspects Niall’s assertive eyes have a lot to with it.

"Ready?" Niall asks, turning to look at the rest of the group.

Louis turns to meet Harry's eyes before replying. When he realises the steel determination in them, he looks back towards Niall and nods. "Yeah."

"Ready," Liam says, looking absolutely unbothered by the weight of Harry's body in his arms.

Niall leaves first, silently, quickly followed by Zayn.

"You go," Louis tells Liam. "I don't want him trailing behind," he adds, chin moving towards Harry.

"I'm right here you know," Harry whispers without heat over Liam's shoulder as they get out.

When Louis takes his first step outside the tent, he's surprised by how much louder the voices appear to be. It's Simon and Ben, that's quite obvious, and they're arguing, shouting aggressively into the night at each other. He shudders, following silently behind Liam. They're not too far from the gate, but they have to walk directly in front of Harry's tent to get there. It's the central piece of the site, the biggest, most important tent there is. No matter which way they go, they know they'll be visible from it at some point. Louis shakes his head as they take a turn. He'll worry about it when they get there. For now, it suffices for them to be silent. Nobody has seen them yet which gives them a slight advantage in their quest to dupe the staff of _Mr. Cowell's Spectacular Extravaganza!_

"Hey!" a voice Louis recognises straight away shouts as soon as they get in sight of the main gate.

It's Charles because of course, it is. He's staring at them, mouth opened in shock and breathing loud and deep, nostrils flaring, one of his hand pointing at the precious cargo Liam he's carrying.

"Shit," Niall says just as the tall man shouts again.

"They're over here!” Charles yells. “The beast is over here! They're trying to escape!"

"Run!" Louis shouts, sprinting forward towards the gate. They're so close he can already smell the air of freedom and the mere thought of failing Harry at this point is crushing and utterly unbearable.

He can see Niall, Zayn, and Liam running in front of him, can hear Simon's voice coming from further away, can hear the steps of his minions as they start catching up with them. He's breathing loud, trying to disregard anything that isn't his goal or the sight of Harry in Liam's arms in front of him, but the violence of Simon's voice is hard to ignore as he curses and threatens.

"Do not let them escape!" it shouts, over and over again.

They're almost there, Louis is almost there. He can see Niall and Zayn further ahead, already kicking at the main gate, trying to get it open and how could they forget the lock?

"It's not gonna work," Ben shouts tauntingly and Louis can't resist looking back.

He's close, closer than Louis expected, looking furious and holding what looks like a revolver.

Louis' eyes widen. "Open the gate!" he screams urgently before a bang resonates into the night. Louis' heart lurches for a second when he sees Liam falter just as he arrives at the door.

"Harry!" Louis screams, blood pumping faster than ever.

Zayn and Niall both kick at the door one more time, finally managing to burst it open just as Louis joins them, Ben still close behind.

They turn left, still running, following the curve of the wooden fence of the freak show.

"You fucking thief!" Ben screams and Louis knows it's all meant for him.

He can't even feel relief when they finally see the carriage, the image of Liam’s stumbling omnipresent in his mind.

Niall and Zayn drop their baggage in the back, both walking on each side of the carriage to get to the front. The horse neighs nervously, spooked by their sudden appearance, and Niall whispers a few words in Gaelic to reassure him as he climbs up front. Liam puts Harry carefully in the back before climbing himself and turning around to extend a hand to Louis just as he arrives.

He grabs it and jumps, grunting at his body hits what looks like a bag of flour.

"Now!" Liam yells and the carriage jerks forward into the night.

Ben gives up running after them after only a couple of minutes. "I'm going to find you Tomlinson!" he shouts warningly, panting in the middle of the road as his body becomes smaller, smaller, and disappears.

Louis doesn't waste even a second worrying about Ben’s threats, turning to Harry instantly, nervously making sure he’s alright.

"Are you okay?" he asks him urgently, hands grabbing his shoulders and looking over his torso for traces of injuries.

"I'm fine," Harry says. "Promise."

He looks paler than before, far from fine, looking sicker and sicker as time passes and he remains out of the water. Beyond that, though, he seems uninjured.

"I saw Liam..." Louis falters, turning towards the other man.

Liam smiles and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine too, in case you were wondering."

Louis chuckles awkwardly, feeling himself blush, and he passes a hand through his hair, gaze dropping to the bags they are sitting on in order to try and hide it.  "Sorry, I'm glad you're alright."

Liam dismisses the apology with a hand. "I didn't know he had a gun. It took me by surprise that's all."

"Of course," Louis replies, still out of breath. "What about you two in the front? Are you alright?"

Zayn's face appears from behind the fabric separating them. "We're both fine,” he says, looking a bit shocked. “It was a close one, though."

“Fucking locked gate!” they hear Niall muttering in the front and it makes Harry and Liam laugh.

Louis only manages a side smile, the exhaustion in his bones and the fear of failure too strong for him to fully relax yet. They’re a long way from Brighton still.

*

They arrive at the train station thirty minutes later. It’s still the middle of the night and the next train isn’t until six in the morning. There’s nothing left to do but wait and hope that nothing else goes awry.

“We need to find some water for you,” Louis tells Harry after they’ve been dozing off silently for about five minutes. “You don’t look too good.”

“I told you,” Harry says, voice hoarse. “It’s not recommended. But I can live with it.”

They're sitting next to each other on one side while Liam is on the other. Louis wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder when he notices the way he's struggling to keep his body up, inviting him to rest his head against his shoulder. Harry sighs, cuddling contently into Louis and his eyes close almost immediately. Harry hasn’t said it explicitly, but Louis suspects that beyond the fear,  being out of the water is exhausting for him.

"I'll go look for a fountain," Liam says with a yawn. "They usually have some public drinking ones near the stations."

"Thanks," Louis whispers, carefully not disturb the sleeping boy resting on him.

"I'll come too," Niall says from the front before handing Zayn the reins and jumping off the carriage.

Liam is quick to follow, one hand grabbing the bucket before he leaves.

Louis sighs when they're gone, eyes dropping to Harry's tail. It seems to have lost its sparkle, looks beyond dehydrated, and Louis knows Harry said he was fine, that he could deal with it, but he can't help the worry nagging at him. Every second lasting an eternity as he mentally wonders if Harry is downplaying it to make sure they aren’t worried. What if it affects him long-term? What if he dies before they get to bring him back home? Louis can't bear the thoughts.

He starts stroking Harry's hair absently, marvelling at its surprising softness. He gulps as he looks at his closed eyes and his peaceful look. Louis knows they're doing the right thing, but as he stares at Harry's soft face, it's hard for him to remember why that is. It's hard for him to accept that after today, he'll never get to see Harry again. He'll never hear him laugh or see him soften at the sight of Lux. It's almost unbearable to think about.

Louis feels like such a fool.

"How is he?" Zayn whispers, one hand holding the fabric between his seat and the back of the carriage open so he can take a proper look at Harry.

"You were right," Louis replies, ignoring the question, his eyes stuck on the softness of Harry's face in sleep.

"What do you mean?" Zayn asks, tone careful.

Louis gulps and puts the hand not on Harry's shoulder into his trouser pocket. He tries his best not to squirm too much as he takes a small wrinkled card out of it. He shows Zayn silently, finally meeting his eyes.

Zayn smiles sadly when he recognises the lovers' card he's given him that night, so many weeks ago.

"You were right," Louis repeats with a weak laugh. "You were right."

"Louis-" Zayn turns his face away from the back of the carriage and stares straight ahead for a second. He sighs. "I'm sorry," he finally replies sincerely.

 

*

 

When Liam and Niall return, ages later and pushing the fabric around the carriage open suddenly, Louis jumps and gasps, arm tightening around Harry’s body protectively. Harry wakes up, startled by the movement and giving Louis a confused look with half-closed eyes.

Liam jumps in the carriage, bending down the opening to receive the bucket Niall is holding out to him. Liam drops it next to them and Louis’ heart sinks when he takes a look inside.

“What is this?” he asks, offended, pointing at the two inch of muddy water at the bottom.

“We couldn’t get any more,” Liam says sadly while Niall starts walking around the carriage to join Zayn.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Louis asks, voice getting shrill. He feels Harry’s palm settling on his chest.

“It took a long time finding a drinking fountain and when we did we started to fill it but we got interrupted by a policeman. He started asking all those questions...? He was very insistent so we ran.”

Louis sighs, frustrated, before untangling himself from Harry. He reaches for his bag, takes one of the seaweed jars out of it and grabs one of his old shirts. He rips one of the sleeves carelessly before dropping it into the water. If it can be called as such. He loathes this city’s gritty dirtiness now more than ever.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Harry as he starts crawling back towards him, hand still holding his bag “I know it’s not ideal.”

Harry shrugs good-naturedly. He looks even more exhausted than before, if that’s even possible, despite being the only one who managed to get a bit of sleep. There are dark circles under his eyes and Louis can see his hands shaking.

“Here,” he says, grabbing the jar and handing it to him. “Eat something, it can’t hurt.”

Harry smiles gratefully and takes the jar. It becomes quickly apparent he’s too weakened to open it and before Louis can intervene, Liam reaches for it.

“Let me,” he says, taking it out of Harry’s tired hands and opening it swiftly.

Harry grabs it gratefully and starts eating straight away. “Thank you, Liam,” he mumbles around a mouthful. He gulps. “I’d offer you some but…” He grimaces at him teasingly before getting back to his meal.

Louis snorts at his silly antics, heart clenching at how good-natured and adorable Harry can be.

“I have bread if you want?” he offers Liam, taking the red flower out of his bag to look for the food he knows he put in the bottom. “Niall? Zayn?” he calls to the front, just in time to see their faces separate from each other in a smacking sound.

“No thanks, Lou,” Zayn replies, eyes never leaving Niall’s face.

“Suit yourself,” Louis mumbles to himself, taking a bite of bread before giving it to Liam.

He grabs the wet sleeve, twisting it to get rid of the excess of water. When he’s satisfied, he turns back towards Harry, stroking the rag softly over the delicate fins at the bottom of his tail, watching in fascination as they move slightly at the contact, like they’re ticklish. He looks up to Harry’s face to tease him about it only to find him already captivated by something else.

“My flower,” Harry whispers, smiling at the mug. “You got it for me?” he asks, looking at Louis.

He shrugs in response, a bit embarrassed. “I know there’s not much use for it in the water but I felt strange leaving it there.”

“You should keep it, of course,” Harry insists.

Louis shakes his head, already refusing. “It was a gift””

“It’ll be something to remember me by,” Harry argues.

“And what will you have to remember me by then?”

Harry blushes, hiding his shy smile by dropping his gaze to his lap. “I think freedom will be enough.”

Louis’ heart tightens in response and continues to drag the wet sleeve over Harry’s tail softly, slowly caressing the scales and marvelling at the way they already look healthier with so little contact.

“How does it feel?” he asks in a raspy voice, one hand holding underneath Harry’s tail, the other never stopping its up and down movement.

Harry shivers. “Better.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright for the train ride?” Louis insists.

“I told you I’d be fine,” Harry replies, starting to get some colours back, looking a little bit better already.

“I know but-”

“Stop worrying Lou,” Harry whispers, hitting Louis’ side with the bottom his tail softly and raising a teasing eyebrow at him.

Louis blushes and continues soaking Harry’s tail, covering it inch by inch in muddy water.  
  
“I can’t help myself,” he admits after a few seconds. “I want you to be alright.”

“I am,” Harry replies. “All of you are making sure of that, and I’m so grateful.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Louis asks, turning to give Liam a look.

“Right,” Liam agrees easily, smiling at both of them. “We want you to be safe.”

“And we’ll do everything in our power to make sure of it!” Niall adds happily from the front.

“We just have to figure out a way to get you on that train without anyone noticing this,” Louis says, holding Harry’s tail up and tickling him underneath.

Harry squeaks and tries to push him away, letting out a few involuntary giggles.

“Oi!” Louis protests. “Stop moving around, I’m trying to work here.”

“I’m ticklish,” Harry admits sheepishly.

“Hey, can you two stop doing that,” Niall interrupts but he doesn’t sound irritated. “We still haven’t figured out the rest of the plan. And I don’t know about you but I’d rather not cause a panic because we brought a merman inside the station!”

“Actually,” Zayn replies in a small voice, “I have an idea.”

Louis smiles at Harry but stops tickling him, continuing to apply water on his tail instead. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“The only solution I can think of is we wrap his tail with some of the clothes we brought and say he got injured. Tragic accident leaving him unable to walk. We’re talking him to the coast to rest, nothing like a seaside holiday to lifts your spirits up,” Zayn explains with a shrug.

“He looks pale enough for it,” Liam agrees.

“But we don’t have anything big enough to wrap his whole tail in, not in a way that won’t look suspicious,” Niall argues. “No offense Swimmy but that thing is huge.”

Harry smiles. “None taken.”

“What about my coat?” Liam offers, pointing to his left where he discarded his jacket. “Besides, if I’m carrying him it won’t look too weird.”

It will look incredibly weird actually. People will assume he needs a wheelchair and they will probably question its absence. Except they don’t have a better plan or any other type of plan. And there is no time. Harry has already been out of the water too long and Louis can stroke his tail with a wet rag all he wants, it will never be what he truly needs. They don’t have the luxury to improve this plan and no matter how much Louis doesn’t like it, it will have to do. Besides, they only need to convince the conductor and Louis can be very persuasive.

“If they question it we’ll say he’s felt self-conscious about his legs since the accident,” Louis declares forcefully, pushing nerves and doubts aside. Confidence is what will help in this endeavour.

“It’s decided then,” Niall says with a nod. “As long as Harry is alright with it?”

Harry coughs before replying. “It’s decided,” he repeats, giving Louis a reassuring smile.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Dawn creeps on him slowly, the first hint of sunlight a tease of what’s to come, of what they’ll have to accomplish today. Louis watches the sunrise, feet dangling from the back of the carriage while the rest of the boys sleep fretfully, curled up together on the flour bags. He knows they are dark circles under his eyes, knows he should have tried to use the precious few hours they had before the train’s departure to rest, but he has no regrets as he watches London slowly come alive. Today is the day he says goodbye to Harry and he doesn’t want to miss a second of it.

He’s so focused on the changing colours of the sky he doesn’t even notice the sound of stirring and it’s only when Zayn starts crawling towards him that he realises he has company.

“Hey,” Louis whispers carefully, trying not to wake the others yet. He moves a little to the left, leaving enough space for Zayn to sit next to him.

“Hey,” Zayn replies sleepily. He sits down, crossing his legs straight away and reaching inside his jacket for his cigarettes, silently offering one to Louis.

He smiles, accepting the gift with a nod and waits for a few seconds while Zayn fiddles with the match and lights both cigarettes up.

“Did you get any sleep?” Zayn asks after blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Louis takes a long drag before replying. He shakes his head. “Not really.”

Zayn hums thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the busy workers already starting to invade the street. To any passersby they wouldn’t look any different than the thousands of men working in the city, two mates smoking before starting the hard work of the day.

“I just can’t,” Louis continues unprompted. There’s something about Zayn’s careful way of speaking, or not speaking, that makes him easy to talk to. Louis isn’t sure how much of it is part of the act Simon has carefully crafted for him ever since he was a child and how much is his natural perceptive persona, but he feels like each words coming out of Zayn’s mouth is delicately weighted, hand-picked to ensure he always says precisely what he means to.

“You’re worried,” Zayn says and it’s not a question.

Louis gulps. “You’re worried too,” he replies, bringing the cigarette back to his mouth.

“I’m terrified,” Zayn admits like it’s a secret, like Louis hasn’t seen him fall apart at the mere thought of leaving. “We haven’t even left London yet,” he laughs weakly. “Only a couple of miles away and I’m already bricking it.”

“The first time I left the Estate,” Louis starts, turning to look at Zayn’s face, “I was only a young lad, maybe thirteen? My mother sent me to this posh boarding school and I acted like I was so happy to go. I get to explore a bit more of the world! S’what I used to say. I’m big on exploring,” Louis adds confessionally. “Curiosity and all.”

Zayn snorts. “Niall said. It’s why you started working on the show, right?”

Louis feels himself blush, embarrassed and self-conscious. “Look what it got me?” he asks, blowing out smoke. “Two enemies for life and a broken heart.”

Zayn smiles sadly. “What happened?” he asks.

“I think that’s a bit self-evident,” Louis replies, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“I meant…. at boarding school,” Zayn says, careful again, purposeful and slow. He’s probably just trying to distract Louis, trying to make him forget the way the clock is ticking for him and Harry.

Louis is about to say the story doesn’t matter when he decides to just let himself be distracted.

“Well, the truth is I was terrified. I didn’t want to leave home yet. They all thought I was a bit weird, but they’re my family. And after that first day? I cried all night long. It was awful.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows at him in response, lips pursed in discontentment. “I don’t think I’ll spend too many nights crying after Simon.”

Louis lets out a loud laugh. “I don’t think anyone would,” he replies mockingly. “Still, leaving home is hard, even when home isn’t perfect. Nobody can blame you for being scared.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, taking the last drag of his cigarette before putting it out against the carriage, next to his right knee. “Just wish I wasn’t, you know? Niall is always so collected and ready… Here I am feeling like I’m shaking all over, like shaking from the inside.”  

“I don’t think he minds holding your hand through it, though,” Louis whispers conspiratorially, smiling when he sees the way Zayn’s face softens and he becomes bashful.

He stays silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “Are you going to be alright Louis?”

Louis nods, feeling his eyes water. “We’re doing the right thing.”

 

*

 

Ten minutes later, Louis reaches inside his pocket, takes one look at his watch, sighs and gets up to wake the rest of the boys while Zayn lights up his second cigarette and remains seated.

“Hey,” Louis says, shaking Liam’s shoulder, “we’ve got to get ready.”

Liam blinks sleepily at him before nodding and getting up.

“Niall,” Louis says next and he doesn’t even need to touch the other boy for him to wake up.

“I’m awake,” Niall replies, keeping his eyes closed for a few seconds. He sighs, loud and long, then gets up awkwardly, almost tripping on one of the bags. He stretches his arms above his head for a few seconds while giving dirty looks to the bag almost responsible for his downfall before walking towards Zayn and sitting next to him. Niall slides his hand into the hair at the back of Zayn’s neck and presses a small kiss to his temple, smiling against the skin of Zayn’s face.

Louis looks away when they start whispering to each other, moving towards Harry instead of eavesdropping. He silently crawls towards his curled up figure, chuckling at the way he’s all tangled himself, his tail protectively wrapped around his body. Louis wrinkles his nose at the sight, knows he looks too fond, and he can’t quite resist the urge to pass a hand through Harry’s hair, rubbing his thumb on his forehead as he moves the curly locks off his face.

“Swimmy,” he whispers tenderly, watching Harry’s eyelids flutter. “We have to get you ready.”

Harry hums in response, curling further into Louis’ warmth and sniffling adorably. Louis smiles down at him, biting his lower lips and letting him sleep a little while longer.

“Is he awake?” Liam asks, holding his jacket and a one of his shirt out towards Harry.

Louis shakes his head and puts his index over his mouth in response before looking back at the sleeping merman.

“Harry,” he tries again, this time a little louder, with more intent and it’s clear it’s working from the way Harry starts frowning and reaches up sleepily, trying to push Louis away. “You’ve got to wake up,” Louis says with a laugh, endeared at Harry’s sleepy reaction.

“Right,” Harry mumbles in response, fingers holding on to the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “Getting up.”

“Yes,” Louis insists, putting his hand on Harry’s where it’s gripping his shirt and stroking his thumb against it. “Gotta put a shirt on and hide this tail of yours,” he adds, taking Harry’s hand off his clothes and bringing it to his mouth to press a loud kiss on it.

It makes Harry smile, eyes still closed, and Louis knows without asking that he’s thinking back to their conversation by the pool, to the meaning of human kisses.

Liam clears his throat next to them, the hint of a blush colouring his cheeks. “I got you some clothes Harry,” he says when Harry finally opens his eyes and uncurls himself. “Here,” Liam says, dropping the clothes on Louis’ lap and grabbing Harry by the biceps to lift him into a sitting position. “Better, right?”

“Thanks,” Harry replies, reaching for the shirt Louis is handing him.

“Ever worn one of those?” he asks as their hands brush together.

Harry shakes his head before giving the garment a confused look. “No?” he replies, waiting for a beat before handing it back to Louis.

“Let me,” Louis says, opening the shirt and helping Harry into, one arm at the time. “Now we only need to do the buttons,” he teases, starting with the collar and making his way down, tickling Harry’s skin with his pinkie in the process.

“Are you ready mate?” Niall asks and he’s already off the carriage and standing in the street, an impatient look on his face. Zayn is nervously pacing next to him.

“Almost,” Louis calls back. “Just gotta do the tail now.”

Niall nods. “Zayn and I are gonna get the tickets while you guys finish up here, alright?”

Louis just nods back before focusing on the task at hands.

It takes them awhile, but they get there.

 

*

 

“What is this?” Zayn asks in a squeaky voice when Liam, Harry, and Louis finally join them in the boarding queue. He’s looking at the poorly hidden tail with wide, panicked eyes.

“It’s fine,” Louis replies firmly, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “No one is going to notice anything,” he adds in a whisper. “Harry is all curled up and we’ll go quickly.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry, please.”

They can’t afford for Zayn to panic, not now when they most need to be inconspicuous.

“Zayn,” Louis says softly, barely audibly, with a nod. “I know, but it’s going to be fine.”

Zayn inhales, taking his eyes off the buttoned coat and the holes where Harry’s dry tail is slightly visible. It’s not as sparkly and impressive as it is when Harry is in the water, but the colour does stand out and Louis understands where Zayn’s apparent nervosity is coming from.

They can only hope their conductor is neither a particularly observant nor curious fella.

“Next,” the man in question calls out loudly, the queue moving towards the steaming engine.

“Please don’t notice,” Niall whispers as the queue moves again.

Liam’s face is slightly green and he looks seconds away from being sick when the conductor calls “next” again and suddenly it’s their turn.

“Hello,” Louis calls, overly cheerful, smiling towards the man and handing him his ticket.

The conductor doesn’t reply, just let his eyes roam over the ticket, checking all the information before nodding and letting him through.

Louis takes a step towards one of the opened door of the train when he hears “What’s wrong with him?” from behind.

He turns around in time to see Liam open and close his mouth silently first, then Niall turning an alarming shade of red second and Zayn’s eyes widening third. Harry is giving him an alarmed look from Liam’s arms and Louis quickly realises he is going to have to take control of this situation.

“This is my younger cousin,” Louis explains, walking back towards the conductor with a sorrowful expressing. “Lost the use of his legs a few weeks ago,” he explains in a whisper, hoping the feeling of confidence will be enough for the man to forget the fact that Harry’s skin is silver. “Mining accident,” he adds with a grimace and the man seems responsive, humming thoughtfully back at Louis.

“My aunt and uncle are of a certain age and can’t really help him so we thought we’d take him for a nice day by the seaside. I haven’t been yet but I hear Brighton is lovely this time of year.”

The conductor looks pensive for a second. “Why is he all wrapped up like that?”

“Because of the scarring,” Louis whispers. “He’s awfully self-conscious about it. It’s so fresh…. surely you understand?”

The man gulps, looking back at Harry’s face. “That true?” he asks awkwardly, eyes dropping to the coat around Harry’s tail before looking back up to his face.

Harry doesn’t say anything. He just pouts tragically at the conductor, big sad eyes piercing through the man’s and the poor bloke really didn’t stand a chance.

He sighs. “Never mind, come on in,” he says reluctantly, giving Harry’s poorly wrapped tail a last sad look before turning his attention back to the other passengers.

 

 *

 

When they finally find an empty compartment, Zayn lets himself fall into a seat with a shaky exhale. His hands are trembling, small tremors that have nothing to do with the train’s departure. He presses his palms together tightly trying to stop them from moving.

“Zayn,” Niall says, sitting next to him and reaching for his wrist.

“It’s fine,” Zayn replies, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly, but he takes a few long breaths, clearly trying to calm himself.

Niall strokes the top of his hand, silently inviting him to let go and wrap their fingers together instead. He presses a small supportive kiss on his shoulder and that’s when Louis decides to look away, trying to give them a bit of privacy in the tiny cramped compartment. He looks at Harry’s face instead, trying to find any traces of strain. He looks tired, but then again they all do. It’s been a long night. He’s lost a bit of the colour he had regained in the carriage, but he doesn’t look too bad.

He hears Niall whisper to his left. “Don’t worry babe.”

“We’re really doing it,” Zayn replies shakily. “We’re really leaving.”

“I know.”

Harry raises an interrogative eyebrow at him when he’s been staring too long. He’s obviously trying to ignore Niall and Zayn’s conversation too. Louis shakes his head, mouthing “it’s nothing” at Harry.

“I’ve never… I always thought I was going to die there. It’s a lot,” Zayn whispers back.

“We’re safe, though,” Niall says reassuringly. “We’re gonna be safe, I promise.”

“You can’t know that. I made them a lot of money, so did Harry. They’re gonna be furious.” Zayn’s voice croaks on the last word.

Louis’ heart clenches when he hears it, the way Zayn’s insecurities resurface so easily, never gone only controlled and catching up with him again at any moment. A lifetime of Simon Cowell… It makes Louis want to vomit.

“Then we make sure they never find us. We’ll change our names,” Niall offers patiently, lovingly. “You can be Gerald,” he adds teasingly and Louis sees the way Harry’s eyes widen, pleased at the joke.

“Shut up,” Zayn replies with a snort. “You’re the Gerald.”

It’s not his best repartee but they all burst into small giggles, dropping the pretense they weren’t eavesdropping.

“I don’t know Zayn,” Louis says with a shrug, turning his head to stare at him. “I think you’d make a dashing Gerald.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, cheeks reddening in a faint blush. “You can shut up too Tomlinson.”

*

It doesn’t take very long for the movement of the train to lull most of them to sleep. Liam is snoring softly, curled on himself and with his nose pressed against the window. Next to him, Niall and Zayn have fallen asleep too. They’re closely tangled together, Zayn’s head resting against Niall’s chest, both of his arms wrapped around his waist, one of his hands in Niall’s jacket pocket. Niall is sleeping with his mouth open in Zayn’s hair, and surely that can’t be comfortable, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Every once in awhile, he squirms in his sleep, his grip on Zayn’s back tightening.  They’re cute. The stress of the night has finally decreased for them, their exhaustion taking over now that they’re safely on their way to the shore. Louis can’t say he relates quite yet. He doesn’t think he ever will. Every second the train is on the move is one-second closer to the moment he’ll have to say farewell to Harry. How can he rest when there’s so little time left?

They’re sitting together on the other side of the compartment, Harry’s poorly wrapped tail curled partly on Louis’ lap and his upper body turned towards him. He’s biting at the skin of his right index, staring at Louis with a nervous expression on his face.

"What are you going to do after?” Harry finally asks after a couple of minutes.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks instead of replying, a small part of him hoping that Harry isn’t wasting time worrying about him.

“Are you going back to teach? At… Oxford? Right?” he says hesitantly, uncertain if he pronounced the name right.

Louis laughs sadly at the thought. “No,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t think I’m going back to Oxford.”

Harry’s face falls. “Why not?” he argues. “It’s your passion? Your… whole life.”

Louis laughs frankly this time. If there is one thing teaching isn’t, it’s his passion.

“It’s really not. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” Harry says and he looks a bit offended, eyes sad at the thought.

And this is what Louis was afraid of. “It shouldn’t.”

“Of course, it should!” Harry protests with a frown. “I love you,” he confesses, his voice shaky.

“Don’t,” Louis gulps, turning his head away, refusing to hear it. His eyes stop on the loving embrace of Zayn and Niall and his heart drops in his chest. “Don’t say that.”

It’s only making everything worse.

“You don’t think you deserve it,” Harry says and it’s not a question.

Louis shrugs, shame flaring in his belly. “Can you blame me?”

He hears Harry scoff to his right but Louis keeps his eyes fixed on the seat in front of him and its occupants.

“I think I should be the judge of that,” Harry argues. “Lou, look at me please.”

Louis does, schooling his face into a neutral expression. “How can you…” he shakes his head, eyes filling up with tears. He’s so tired.

“How can I forgive you?” Harry asks, reaching for his hand, tangling their fingers together. “It’s easy.”

"It wasn't a few hours ago when you accused me of asking Ben to torture you for the sake of research," Louis says but there’s no heat behind it. He can’t blame Harry for the suspicion when they both know what he’s done.

"I was upset and scared, a lot has changed since then."

"Like what?" Louis asks weakly.

"Like the fact that you defended me? Fought for me? Over and over? The fact that you're all risking everything for my safety?" Harry's face falls for a second. "The fact that this is probably the last time I’ll ever see you and I don't want us to-" his voice shakes.

“Harry."  

"I don't want to leave you with any doubts that you have my complete forgiveness. I know things were more complicated than they seemed. So when I say it matters to me what's going to happen to you after I leave, don't insult me by saying it shouldn't. I get to decide what matters to me. And that includes you."  

For a moment, Louis is so moved he can't even answer.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," he admits, choosing to stay on the safest, less emotional topic. “I'm sorry I don’t have comforting words of farewell. I don't think it would be safe to go back to teaching. Cowell and Winston don't look like the kind of men who let go of a grudge easily. And Ben did say he was going to find me… Should have used a fake name," Louis says self-deprecatingly.

Harry looks horrified at the thought of Cowell’s team coming to look for him, his mouth wide open in shock.  

"Don't look so desperate love,” Louis says fondly, the endearment slipping out without him meaning to. So much for not getting emotional. “I didn't like it all that much. And they didn't like me back either. Besides, after everything that's happened, I don't think I could."

“Why not?”

“All my life…” Louis trails off for a second. He clears his throat nervously. “All my life I’ve been fighting to prove that people like you existed. Fairies? Vampires? Anything. All I got in return was mockery and contempt. I wanted to go back triumphant. I thought it mattered, that I had to prove myself? But I don’t care anymore. I know the truth, that’s what matters.”

Harry bites on his lower lip, passing a hand through his curls. He still doesn’t look his best, but he’s beautiful still.

“Why did you change your mind?”

Louis smiles softly, tightening his fingers around Harry’s. “You know why.”

“Tell me anyway,” Harry asks, eyes sparkling.

“You’re not a scientific discovery and I don’t want greedy men like Cowell and Winston learning about you. They don’t deserve to. You’re so-” Louis lets out a shaky breath. “You’re more important.”

“What about triumph?” Harry asks, eyes dropping to his lap. “What about glory?”

“Harry, I don’t care about any of that anymore. I just care about you.”

Louis opens his mouth to continue, to tell Harry he loves him, to start composing a sonnet about the way his cheek dimples when he smiles but he doesn’t get the chance. Harry drops his hand, reaching for Louis' neck and dragging him into a bruising kiss.

It’s nothing like their first kiss, that tentative brushing of their lips, the slow exploration of each other’s mouth as Harry was discovering human kissing for the first time. No, this kiss is desperate and Louis moans when he feels Harry biting into his lower lip.

“Careful,” he whispers teasingly into Harry’s mouth. “I know what a mermaid’s bite can do,” he says, raising an eyebrow and he feels his heart skip a beat when Harry snorts at the comment.

“Don’t worry,” Harry replies slowly, “I’ll be gentle.”

They kiss again, their chest pressing together and somewhere in the back of Louis’ mind, there’s a voice telling him to stop, that the clock is ticking, that this will only hurt him more than necessary, but Louis chooses to ignore it in favours of sliding his tongue into Harry’s mouth.

Today he has to sacrifice what he has come to cherish the most in the whole world. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t enjoy every single second they have left.

 

*

 

By the time the train arrives in Brighton, Harry’s mouth is well kissed, puffed and wine red, and the rest of the boys are slowly waking up. Blissfully, none of them comment on Harry and Louis’ disheveled appearances or the tears tracks on their cheeks.

Liam is the first to get up, stretching his arms above his head and making a small groaning sound. He clears his throat before taking a step towards the other seat, already reaching for Harry.

Louis’ grip tightens around Harry’s waist for a second, his fingers holding onto the shirt they both put him into.

“I can take it from here,” Louis says softly, giving Harry a short side glance, meeting his gaze.

“Of course,” Liam replies clumsily, taking a step back and falling back into his seat. He puts both of his hands on his knee, waiting for the others to move.

“Here we are,” Niall finally says after a couple of seconds of silence.

None of them are moving. They can see the other passengers walking the corridor and leaving the train, chatting excitedly about the prospect of a day spent by the sea. Louis stares at them, wishing he could share part of that joy. Harry’s going home today. He should be happy for him. He’s trying to be, he’s trying so hard, yet the inescapable fact that this is goodbye is a shadow he can’t quite seem to shake, no matter how many times he mentally reminds himself that this is supposed to be a happy moment...

“Let’s go,” Zayn whispers towards Louis, giving him a small encouraging smile and he hates the fact that he needs it, but he does. It’s what pushes him in the end, that small smile that seems to be saying _I know but we have to._

He sighs before wrapping Harry in his arms and getting up.

They have to.

 

*

 

Once they’ve exited the train and the station, they all start making their way to the beach in solemn silence. Louis can feel Harry shaking slightly in his arms. He’s not sure if it’s because of the emotion or because he’s been out of the water too long and he doesn’t have the courage to ask so he just holds onto him a little tighter and keeps moving on. They arrive near the West Pier, the long metal construction impressive in the morning sunlight. To Louis’ surprise, it’s deserted this early in the day and he sighs, relieved at the knowledge that they’ll be able to do this without an audience.

Louis takes a few steps on the empty beach, already making his way down the slope towards the water when he notices the other three boys aren’t following him. He turns around and frowns when he sees the way they’re all huddled together next to a bench near the pavement.

“Are you coming?” Louis asks with a shrug, feeling Harry’s nails digging into his shoulder as he walks back towards them.  

Niall and Zayn share a silent look.

“We should say goodbye to Harry now,” Niall says when Louis has joined them again, giving them both a sad smile.

“But-”

“We don’t want to intrude,” Zayn explains, reaching for Louis’ forearm and giving it a compassionate squeeze. “This should be between you two, yeah?”

“Thank you,” Harry says from his arms, reaching for Zayn’s hand and stroking his fingers softly. “Thank you so much for what you did. All of you. I’ll…” he shudders, clearly emotional. “I’ll never forget it.”

“Of course, Swimmy,” Niall replies, ruffling Harry’s hair. “It was nothing.”

“No,” Harry insists. “It’s not nothing. I thought I would never see my home again. I thought I’d die in that horrible place…. and after a while, it was alright because I had all of you as my friends and it made things better but…” Harry closes his eyes.

“Oh don’t cry Swimmy,” Niall says softly, grabbing Harry’s cheeks and giving him a kiss on the forehead.  “It’s fine, you’re free now, yeah? And we were all so happy to help you.”

“Truly,” Liam adds, shuffling a little closer.

“Yeah, I know I was scared,” Zayn starts saying, “ and maybe it made you think I didn’t want to help but it’s not the case. I’m really happy we did. Don’t feel bad for us, please.”

“It’s a new adventure for everyone,” Niall adds warmly.

“I suppose,” Harry agrees with a wet laugh. “Thank you. Again. I’ll never forget you.”

“Neither will we, you majestic creature,” Niall replies before dragging both Louis and Harry into a fierce hug. He’s quickly joined by Liam and Zayn and suddenly all five of them are tangled together on the beach, sniffling and whispering emotional goodbyes to each other.

Louis closes his eyes and keeps his nose buried in Harry’s hair, feeling arms wrapped around them both and trying his hardest not to cry. Not yet. He still hasn’t said goodbye to Harry.  

They keep hugging for a few minutes and Louis is thankful the beach is almost empty this early in the morning because they must look quite peculiar, tangled and weepy as they are.

Liam is the first to break away, turning around to hide his teary eyes. “You… uh,” he clears his throat. “Don’t forget to give me my coat back,” he finally says, rough, awkward.

“Excuse Liam,” Niall says teasingly, “he’s not very good with emotional moments.”

Niall reaches for the buttons on the coat, undoing them swiftly before throwing it at Liam’s face.

“I didn’t mean…. oh nevermind,” Liam protests and Zayn snorts at their antics before finally letting go of the hug.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” Harry whispers, inhaling deeply and squirming in Louis’ arms to take the shirt off too.

“Careful,” Louis squeals, one of his hand slipping under the shirt and onto Harry’s lower back.

It takes them a few seconds of fidgeting but they eventually succeed, giving the shirt back to Liam with mischievous eyes.

“Since it’s the only thing you care about,” Louis says teasingly and Liam’s mouth opens, his face exaggeratingly offended.

“No, no,” he babbles, dropping the coat to the ground and reaching for Harry’s hand, “that’s not what I meant at all. Niall is right, I’m bad at this stuff.”

“I know.”

“I’ll never forget you, Harry. And I’ll never stop being sorry for the part I played in what happened to you.”

“Don’t,” Harry says, shaking his head. He glances at the long beach, the slow movement of the water. “It was a good part in the end.”

Liam, Niall, and Zayn all smile at the comment, the same bittersweet expression on their faces.

“Alright then,” Zayn says, “have a good trip back home.” They all nod their agreement.

Harry smiles and waves before hiding his head into Louis’ shoulder. He takes it as his cue to leave so he tightens his hold on Harry’s body and makes his way to the water. Louis’ heart is beating so hard in his chest he’s sure it’s going to break out, sure that Harry can probably feel every violent beat. The moment has come and Louis has no idea how he’s supposed to handle it.

Once he gets to the water, he doesn’t stop, just keeps on walking until he’s knee deep and only then does he reluctantly lets go of Harry’s body, softly lowering him back into his element.

He can see the relief on Harry’s face once he’s finally back into the water, the way his tense muscles loosen and the deep breath of salty air he takes. He looks happy, face relaxed as he stares at the immensity in front of him, his tail already looking healthier and sparklier.

“Here we are then,” Louis whispers sadly and Harry turns around to face him, eyes distraught.

It’s such a heartbreaking sight that he has to look away.

“Lou.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Louis says breathlessly, tears in his eyes that he’s doing his best to hide by staring off at the horizon, at the miles and miles of cold blue sea that Harry calls home.

“Louis,” Harry says, voice falling apart and how can Louis keep his eyes away when it’s most likely his last chance to see Harry’s face.

There are tears in Harry’s eyes too, his beautiful green eyes that Louis has grown so fond of. He feels a pang of longing for them already, knows his days are going to get longer and sadder without Harry’s presence to soften them all.

“Louis,” Harry repeats weakly and Louis falls to his knees in the water, reaches for Harry’s face, exhales sharply.

It’s what’s right. Harry has to go home; to his family, the things he knows. They don’t belong together. It wouldn’t be fair for him to spend the rest of his life restricted on land just because Louis loves him. He knows it’s the right thing to do, has known it for a long time now, and yet. Now faced with the task of saying goodbye, the only thing he wants to do is be selfish. He wants to beg Harry to stay, wants to promise him he’ll take care of him, make sure he’s safe and happy, with a large body of water in their backyard so that he can swim freely as much as he wants and where they can grow old together.

With his fingers stroking Harry’s jaw he lets himself enjoy the fantasy for a few seconds, lets himself imagine laughing with Harry every day for the rest of their lives.

He doesn’t say anything, though. He doesn’t ask or beg. Harry doesn’t belong here and Louis would loathe himself for being the person who entrapped him on land more than he’ll hate every day spent without that dimpled smile in his life.

Harry reaches for him, big hands wrapping around Louis’ waist, slipping under his wet shirt so he can touch the skin of Louis’ back, so he can press them together in a tight, intimate hug. He buries his face into Louis’ neck in a sob and Louis thinks maybe this is what dying feels like.

“You get to go home today Swimmy,” Louis whispers in his ears in an overly cheerful voice. It sounds fake and sad. But he can’t do better than that. “I love you,” he adds. It’s the first and last time he’ll get to say it and it sits uncomfortably in his chest, visions of days and years where it will have to stay trapped inside of him with no escape plaguing his mind. “Go now.”

Harry inhales slowly before raising his head from Louis’ chest. He’s crying silently now, a desperate look on his face. “Stay near the coast,” he begs, voice shaky. “Please, whatever you do…”

“Why?” Louis asks, trying to understand the request. Every possible reason he can come up with only sharpens the pain and he doesn’t understand why Harry is making such a demand.

“So I can feel like I can see you whenever I want,” Harry admits. He looks reluctant and ashamed to ask, but like he still can’t help himself, like this need for reassurance is bigger than anything. “So it’s not goodbye, just see you later. I know it’s selfish, but-”

“Yes,” Louis replies without thinking, erasing any plans he had of running as far as humanly possible to forget this ever happened. Harry deserves better than being locked away in a secret corner of his mind. “I will. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Harry exhales in relief. His eyes are glassy and greener than ever before, like the grass on the Estate where he used to lay for hours as a child, imagining all the creatures he’d get to encounter in his life. He never quite imagined this.

“It’s time now,” Louis whispers, caressing Harry’s cheekbones before pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. “No use in delaying the inevitable.”

“I know.”

Louis smiles at Harry, heart so full it could burst, before rubbing their nose together one, two, three times. It makes him laugh for a second before he sobs again, Louis’ heart twisting painfully at the sight. He lets his fingers’ tangle in Harry’s hair, stroking the curls as he watches him shake his head and smile sadly before inhaling to calm himself down.

“See you later Louis.”

“See you later my love.”

 

*

 

It’s only once Harry is gone that Louis lets himself really cry. He watches the horizon wistfully, tears rolling down his cheeks as he contemplates the vastness of the sea and what it means for him now. None of the boys interrupt him and Louis isn’t even sure if they’re still waiting or if they’re long gone. He doesn’t really care. He feels empty, the kind of empty where he feels heavy with it, like if he kept on walking in the water, just kept going forward deeper and deeper into Harry’s world, he would sink with the weight of the void inside of him.

He breathes in the salty air and imagines the look on Harry’s mother’s face when she sees him again, his sister’s, his father’s… Will they laugh? Cry?  He takes a moment to imagine their surprised gasp, their trembling embraces. He inhales sharply and wipes the tears off his face. It was the right thing to do. Even if it hurts more than he could have imagined. He lets himself enjoy the comforting movement of the waves before turning his back to the sea and walking back on land.

The boys are still there, waiting for him. Zayn and Niall are cuddled on a bench, Zayn dozing off on his boyfriend’s shoulder, but Liam standing rigidly on the beach, eyes locked on Louis as he approaches them. He’s about to open his mouth to say _it’s fine_ when Liam locks him in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry Louis,” he says empathically, sincere and Louis gulps, jaw tightening in an effort not to start crying again.

“Thanks,” he whispers in Liam’s shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he adds weakly.

Liam nods in agreement. “I’m still sorry,” he says, tightening his hold on Louis’ shoulder for a second before letting him go.

“How are you feeling?” Niall asks from the bench, reaching for Louis’ arm even if he’s a hint too far away.

Louis chuckles bitterly. “Like I did some good today after weeks of staying silent and complicit in the most disgusting affair I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

There’s no point in adding that he also feels like he’s being torn apart and half of his soul has been swallowed by the waves. He doesn’t have words for that, not yet. Besides, he suspects by the worried side glances they keep giving him, they already know.

“We did do something,” Zayn says, getting up slowly, stretching like a cat. “I’m really glad.” He smiles down at Niall, giddy and proud.

Louis gulps and looks away, trying his best not to sigh. He’s proud of Zayn too. It was a tough decision for him to walk away like that, but it was worth it. It shows in the way he stands, carefree, relaxed. It started the moment they left London and now that they’re finally truly away, he’s radiant, looking tired but deeply satisfied. Louis supposes after years of living in that toxic environment, this must feel like the first breath of fresh air in years.

“I didn’t mean-” Zayn stops himself and turns his gaze away from Niall, giving Louis a horrified look like he’s only just realised how careless he sounds.

“I know,” Louis interrupts reassuringly. “Today is a good day, a happy day. We should treat it as such.”

“It’s sad too,” Zayn says, offering Louis a comforting smile.

Louis nods. Sad doesn’t begin to cover the layers of the emotions he’s feeling right now. Harry is free though and no sadness will be allowed to be associated with that.

“It’s a happy ending for Harry and to me, that’s all that matters,” Louis says and it’s a reminder to himself more than a confession.

Zayn nods solemnly. He gives Niall a small look before speaking. “We’ve been thinking and we want to go up north, maybe in Scotland? It’s as good a place as any to start a new life and at least, it’s beautiful.”

Louis smiles. “That’s a good idea, I think you could be very happy there.”

“Except,” Niall says, getting up from the bench,” we’d love for you to come with us.”

Louis shakes his head before Niall has even finished his sentence.

“Liam already agreed,” Zayn argues.

“Good for Liam,” Louis replies softly. He doesn’t want to argue with them over this and while he appreciates the sentiment, he knows it’s not going to happen. Not when he made a promise to Harry.

Zayn sighs and rolls his eyes.

“What are you going to do?” Niall asks, looking worried. “You can’t go back to your life like nothing happened.”

“I wouldn’t want to.”

“Then what? Is it so terrible? The thought of staying with us?” Niall insists.

“Don’t be stupid Niall,” Louis replies, dragging him into a hug. “You’re my friend,” he continues into his shoulder. “All of you are. But I just can’t okay.”

“Why not?” Niall asks, tightening his arms around Louis’ back. “Louis, why not?” he repeats after a few moments of silence.

Louis sighs and lets go of him. He knows they probably won’t approve.

“I’m going to stay near the coast,” he admits. “And I know what you’re going to say,” he adds, raising a hand to stop them before they’ve even opened their mouths, “but I promised Harry I would.”

“Mate,” Liam says sadly.

“I’m not asking you to understand it.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Niall asks eyebrows furrowed in doubt, something Louis has rarely seen on his expressive face.

He laughs and it sounds a bit desperate even to his own ears. “I don’t know. But I know I’m not ready to leave yet.”

“We can wait,” Zayn says reassuringly, putting a hand on Louis’ wrist. “It’s alright.”

“Don’t,” Louis replies, shaking his head fiercely. “Not on my account. You deserve to be able to do whatever you want now, without anyone stopping you. And who knows when I’ll be ready?”

A small part of him thinks he never will, but Harry hasn’t been gone for an hour yet. Who knows how he’ll feel after a few months, a few years?

“Well, we’re going up to Inverness. There’s a train that leaves in a couple of hours and please know that you’re welcome on it. And you’ll be welcome to visit us any time afterwards.”

Louis’ eyes start watering at the declaration and he blinks quickly, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Zayn says pointedly. “Without you… we’d still be back there, acting blind, pretending like we were okay with that place...” He smiles, clearly moved. “I’ll never forget it, Louis.”

They hug, all four of them pressed close together on the beach, holding tightly to each other for the last time, the only four people in the world who knows everything that happened. Louis realises then, as he hides his head in Niall’s neck and grasps at Liam’s shoulder, that despite the best intentions and a sincere friendship, he’s never going to see them again. He feels it in his bone somehow, a certainty settling in his heart, and he’s strangely alright with it, content to have known them and of the way they changed each other’s world. He’ll never forget and neither will they. Sometimes that’s enough.

Once he’s given them a proper farewell at the train station, Louis slowly walks back to the pier. He sits, alone, feet dangling over the sea and he swears he can see a hint of silver moving swiftly in the water, swears he can make out the outline of long fins.

He smiles.

*

 

_September 1897_

 

_Dear Humphrey,_

_I apologize for not writing to you earlier. I know I promised to give you news of my endeavour, and of the progress of my research in our common interest, but I’m afraid the reality of what I’ve experienced at Mr. Cowell’s Spectacular Extravaganza! has too often left me without words for me to keep it. Many times I’ve thought of expressing to you every extraordinary thing that I’ve learned and yet when faced with a blank piece of paper… I simply couldn’t. It’s been a long summer my friend and so much has changed._

_I write to you today not with details of my observations, but with sombre news. I won’t be returning to Oxford in the fall. While Mr. Higgins has assured me that there is still a place for me in his college, I realise now my future lies elsewhere. It isn’t safe for me there anymore. I know this must be difficult for you to understand but I want you to know how grateful I am for the times we’ve spent together and the help you have provided. I couldn’t have wished for a better assistant._

_I believe still, now more than ever, and I hope that you’ll continue to as well despite my absence. Attached to this letter is my new address. If you’re ever in town, do come around for tea. I’d love to tell you what happened._

_Your friend_

_L.Tomlinson_


	14. Epilogue

_Studland, 1909_

Like most mornings, Louis wakes up early. He lets himself enjoy the comfort of his bed for a few more minutes before getting up and stretching his arms above his head. He gets dressed casually, willingly forgetting to put on a tie or a waistcoat, then he makes his way to the kitchen and puts water in the kettle. He yawns as he waits for it to boil and when his tea is finally ready, Louis grabs the mug and makes his way to his study.

The door creaks when it opens, the smell of books is subtle but omnipresent. It’s Louis’ favourite room in the house. He walks around his desk, sitting in his plush velvet chair and lets out a content sigh. The spine of a book catches the corner of his eyes and he smiles at the sight; his first novel, a fantasy adventure he spent seven years writing and only recently managed to get published. It's not the life he ever imagined for himself but Louis is happy.

He reads his mail carefully while sipping on his tea, letting the early hours of the morning go by until he’s finally done and ready to leave. He finishes his tea in a couple of gulps and grabs a well-loved leather notebook from his desk before leaving his office and walking back to the kitchen to drop his cup in the sink.

It’s a thirty minutes walk to the beach and each morning, Louis enjoys every second of it. When he finally catches a glimpse of the rock formation that makes this region famous, he smiles happily to himself. The three giant chalk rocks emerging from the sea are known as Old Harry’s Rock and they’ve captured the imagination of young and old for years now. Named after a ruthless pirate who roamed this sea hundreds of years before, everyone is constantly elated not only because of the beauty of the natural world but because of the legend associated with it. Louis has heard countless whispers about the infamous pirate in town, locals and tourists alike delighted by the story that made this place, those rocks, famous; children digging happily in the sand on rare sunny summer days to find Old Harry's treasure; young women wide-eyed and excited at the thought of those adventure tales.  
  
But Louis knows better.

Louis knows of another Harry for whom the sea is home who makes this place oh so special.

He whistles an old love song as he makes his way to the beach, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his notebook carefully. When he gets there, Louis walks along the water until he finds an appropriate spot, somewhere isolated and in the shade, where he can comfortably sit down and write for a few hours.

He finds it after a few minutes, mumbling “perfect” under his breath before taking his jacket off and laying it on the sand. He sits down, opens his notebook on his bended knee and starts writing.

He must have been writing for a little less than an hour when he hears the sound of splashing water. Louis turns towards the noise, eyes already crinkling happily and no matter how many years it’s been, it’s always a miraculous sight, the way Harry suddenly emerges from the water.

“Hi love,” Louis says softly, putting his pen and notebook aside.

It can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr[ here ](http://mediawhorefics.tumblr.com) and if you liked, please consider[ reblogging ](http://mediawhorefics.tumblr.com/post/140789392655/coax-the-cold-author-mediawhore-rating-mature)


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